


Finding Home

by LunaaHawke



Series: Finding Home [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-05-15 14:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5789716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaaHawke/pseuds/LunaaHawke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke is having a hard time coming to terms with Fenris leaving for good. When she's not busy helping the citizens of Kirkwall, she's at the Hanged Man with Varric and Isabela, consuming large amounts of alcohol to help her forget her pain. That is, until Fenris returns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Return

“Then here comes Isabela with this damned tome, right before the fight is about to break out. You can imagine our surprise!”

Laughs came from all around. Tonight was a busy night in the Hanged Man, as every night had been lately. Tensions were getting tight between the mages and templars so the citizens of Kirkwall did what they did best—they ignored their problems and drank.

Varric was the center of attention tonight, telling the story of how everyone managed to leave the fight with the Qunari alive. The Qunari had refused to leave without Isabela, but Isabela had been too good a friend for Hawke to hand over. Hawke had had no other choice but to fight. The Qunari were worthy adversaries but thankfully her friends were always there to support her, and they had easily taken the Arishok down.

Darkness began to fill Hawke’s heart. That was the last night that she had seen him.. She remembers watching him leave after the battle, quietly slinking out the door as Hawke talked to Meredith about what had happened with the Qunari. She remembered the feeling of dread she had, knowing that she would never see him again. She remembered the faint cheers from everyone in the room, muffled in her head by her overwhelming need to hide her emotions. Fenris leaving had opened a void in her heart that she couldn’t fill, no matter how many pints of ale she drowned herself in.

“Excuse me,” she mumbled to Varric; turning to hide her eyes, now filled with tears, from him. Unfortunately, she hadn’t turned fast enough and he had seen. He caught her arm, making her look at him. Thankfully everyone’s attention had turned to Isabela dancing a while ago, so no one seemed to take notice of their exchange.

“Is everything alright, sweetheart?” Varric asked, his tone sincere. Of everyone Hawke considered friends, Varric was the best. He was always looking out for her, being there for her when no one else was. It didn’t matter how many times Hawke cried to him over what had happened; it never changed. The void was still there, would probably always be there. So in response to Varric’s question, Hawke nodded and gave him a weak smile before kissing him on the cheek and getting up to leave.

She approached the bar, her cup of ale empty. She handed it to Corff and, without asking, he filled it for her once more and handed it back.

“Rough night?” he asked.

“I guess you could say that,” Hawke replied, taking a drink from her cup.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Hawke shook her head and looked down at the bar. Talking about it always made the wound re-open. Out of sight, Corff nodded and returned to his work.

Hawke sat at the bar, looking pointedly at the wood it was made of. She couldn’t bring herself to return to the table, not when she felt like this and everyone else was so happy. She didn’t want to bring the mood down. Things were already tough now, with all the tension between everyone. Thankfully, most templars stayed out of the Hanged Man—it was usually too beneath their taste. And the few that did seem to find themselves here never really cared one way or the other who was here; they were just here for cheap ale and cheap women.

“Is this seat taken?”

Hawke’s heart stopped. It had been three years since she had heard that voice. Three years since she felt her heart race like this. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard him come in. When did he get here? Had he just walked in or had he been watching her? Had he been there to watch her spiral into the darkness of her heart, as she did so often anymore? 'God, Hawke, he said something. Just turn around!'

And so she did. Standing before her was the very person she had been waiting every day to see. A longing filled her heart, a longing that ripped open the void she had been very carefully trying to avoid this evening. She was at a loss for words. What had he asked? She didn’t know, but he was there. Right there. He was so close that she could just reach out and touch him, finally. And God, did she want to.

Collecting her thoughts, Hawke slapped a smile on her otherwise bewildered face. “Please, sit,” she said, motioning to the chair next to her.

Fenris sat, not taking his eyes from Hawke’s the whole time. Hawke still had her smile on her face, trying very hard to pretend that she was alright.

“You can quit the act, Hawke. Stop smiling like everything is fine when it very clearly isn’t.”

His tone was concise. Clearly, he was angry with her. 'How dare he,' thought Hawke. He had no right to be upset. He was the one that had left! And just like that, her act was over. Her smile was gone, replaced instead by anger. God, she was angry. Where did that even come from? She had just been sitting there trying not to cry moments ago.

“Are you going to say anything?” Fenris asked. His eyes were unreadable.

“Now what in the hell am I supposed to say, Fenris? ‘Oh, hey, nice to see you, buddy. It’s been a while’?” Hawke was seething. Her heart was still racing. She clenched her mug of ale, threatening to break the glass between her fists.

“You’re angry,” he stated—short, simple, to the point. It made Hawke even angrier.

As she was thinking of every possible obscenity she could call Fenris, Varric approached. He clapped Fenris and Hawke on the shoulder, “Well, well, well, and what do we have here? Haven’t seen you in a while, Fenris. How ya doin’?”

'How can he act like nothing happened,' thought Hawke. After everything that had happened, every late night Hawke had spent crying to him about Fenris leaving, he was just going to accept him back. Just like that. Anger flared in Hawke again, and she shrugged Varric’s hand off her shoulder.

“I’m leaving,” she stated, marching towards the door.

The second Hawke opened the door, cold air blasted her. It was the middle of winter and the air was crisp. The anger drained from Hawke the second the door closed and she was away from the noise of the Hanged Man. She wrapped her arms around herself, beginning to tremble from a mixture of cold and anxiety over seeing Fenris again. A tear streaked her cheek and she immediately wiped it away.

The door opened and, for a moment, the noises of the Hanged Man crowded her. She held herself tighter, trying to build a wall between herself and what she knew was coming when the door closed. It didn’t take long for it to swing shut; and again she was enveloped in a muffled silence.

“Can we talk?” Fenris asked, coming up behind Hawke. He knew she didn’t want to look at him and he didn’t force her to.

Hawke sighed, turning to him. She steeled herself against the void opening ever wider in her chest. Her throat was tight as she choked back everything she had wanted to say. The smell of him washed over her—a mixture of spices that she could never quite place. She inhaled, steeling herself, then looked up slowly.

The first thing she noticed was that he was harder. He had always been lanky from years of running from the slavers that were trying so hard to take him back to his former master, but now his arms were tighter, more toned. Had he found somewhere to hide so that he could rebuild his strength? She wanted nothing more than to just touch him, to run her fingers gently over his tattoos as no one before her had done. She knew she couldn’t, though. He wouldn’t even let her touch him during their night together three years ago, so why in the world would he let her touch him now?

God, she had missed him. The feeling welled up inside her, replacing the anger she had felt so strongly just a few moments ago. She still couldn’t bring her eyes to his. She knew if she did, she would just fall apart.

She leaned forward, touching her forehead to his shoulder. She could feel him tense at the contact. His hands balled into fists, and he fought taking a step back. Hawke trembled, closing her eye to prevent herself from crying.

“Can we go somewhere private?” she finally asked. It wouldn’t do to have the citizens of Kirkwall see their champion (God, Hawke hated that phrase) a fumbling, bumbling mess.

Fenris nodded and took a step away from her, heading in the direction of Hightown—probably to his mansion. Hawke followed silently, her arms still crossed over her, holding herself tightly so that she wouldn’t fall apart. The walk to his mansion was silent. Fenris would occasionally glance back, making sure Hawke was still following him. Otherwise, there was no interaction between the two.

It didn’t take them long to get to the mansion. Once inside, Fenris led Hawke into the main study she used to always find him in. He started a fire in the hearth, instantly bringing warmth to everything except for Hawke. No amount of heat could warm the chill she was feeling.

“Please, sit,” Fenris said after a moment. Hawke complied, sitting with her back to the fire so that she could try to warm herself. Fenris sat at the head of the table next to her. Everything was quiet between them again. Fenris was studying Hawke, trying to get a feel for how she was feeling. Hawke was studying the table, trying everything in her power not to look at him.

Finally, Hawke decided to break the silence, “Why did you leave?” she whispered, her voice breaking at the end of her question. A tear rolled down her cheek, then another. There was no way she would be able to hold them back now.

Hawke heard a sharp intake of breath from Fenris when he noticed the tear fall. She let her eyes turn to his face finally. His eyes—normally so unreadable—were filled with hurt. Hawke felt a sob coming. She hadn’t seen him in so long, yet knowing that he was hurting hurt her even more. She wanted nothing more to protect him from anything that could hurt him. Yet here she was, being the one to hurt him.

“Hawke,” he began, “leaving was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

His voice broke after he said it. He cleared his throat and looked away finally, down at his tattoo-covered hands.

“Just tell me why,” Hawke’s voice was a cracked whisper, thick with her tears.

For a long moment, there was silence. The only sound in the room was the cracking of the fire. Finally, Fenris spoke.

“I was scared,” he began. He turned his eyes to hers once more. He needed her to know that he was telling the truth of things so he refused to look away from her as he continued, “I was scared because you are a beautiful, confident woman who came into my life and completely blind-sided me. I have been alone for so long. Even when I was surrounded by people, I was always alone. But you noticed me. I wanted to run right away because I knew what you would mean to me and I…I didn’t want to hurt you.”

He reached out tentatively, putting his hands over both of hers on her lap. He traced small circles with his index finger on the back of her hand. The touch was so innocent but Hawke knew that Fenris didn’t like contact. He was doing this for her, to show her the truth and intimacy of his words. He took a deep breath and continued, “And yet I’ve gone and done it anyway. Hurt you, I mean. I knew what you’d mean to me and I wanted to run but I didn’t. You asked me not to go after..our night together..and I was so happy..but I knew what I would do. And sure enough, I did. I hurt you, just like I knew I would. Hawke, I’m so sorry..”

There were a million things running through Hawke’s mind. She had thought over their reunion a million times—what she would say, how she would react to seeing him for the first time in years. Everything that she had planned melted away. She drew her hands from his, wiping her cheeks with her sleeve, then cautiously put her hands over his. She felt him tense at her touch, but he left his hands where they were. It was a huge step for him, Hawke knew, and she couldn’t help but feel proud of him.

“Fenris, you’re right. I am hurt that you chose to leave. My life..it’s been nothing but darkness since you left. I need you to know that. But I also need you to know that all that hurt that I’ve been feeling, for years, Fenris..all of that is completely shadowed by how happy I am that you’re back.”

Fenris sat for a moment, letting Hawke’s words sink in. Finally, he let himself smile his adorable half-smile. Hawke loved his smile. She grinned in return and suddenly she couldn’t stand being away from him any longer. She stood from her chair, kneeling in front of him. His legs had been spread, and her body fit nicely in the space. He watched her--tense, unsure, nervous--but he allowed it. Slowly, she closed her eyes and tilted her mouth to his. His lips were soft against hers. She felt his uneasiness slip away, his body relax. Hawke sighed. She had been waiting so long to do this. She finally was, and she couldn’t help but feel that everything in this moment was perfect.

He broke the kiss after a moment, reaching his hand up to run his fingers through her hair. He leaned her forehead against hers, letting his hand rest on the side of her neck.

Hawke relaxed against him, letting the span of a few minutes pass before she opened her eyes. His eyes were still closed, but opened slowly when she finally spoke:

“Don’t ever leave me again, okay?” she said, studying his face, his reaction as she said it.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispered. He angled his head, placing a soft kiss on Hawke’s forehead. This was where he needed to be—near Hawke, always. He was home.


	2. Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders has a proposition for Hawke, one that she knows Fenris won't particularly be fond of. But Anders is her friend, she has to help him--no matter the cost.

_Maker, I’ve always hated the smell of this place. Kudos to you, though, helping out in a place like this._

Hawke glanced down at the note in her hand. _‘Come immediately,’_ it stated, ‘ _I have something urgent to discuss with you. Signed, Anders.’_

Hawke took the stairs in front of Anders’ clinic two at a time. Once there, she stepped through the always-open doors and started heading in the direction she knew she’d find him in. Everyone there greeted her; either by her last name or just calling her Champion. She nodded at each in turn. Most of these people had seen her at her worst, injured and in pain from some battle or another. She always had to come here if Anders hadn’t come with her on whatever adventure she was on, which wasn’t often but it was often enough that she’d screamed obscenities at everyone in the room once or twice. They still loved her, though, and she returned their love in kind.                                                

Hawke found Anders towards the back of his clinic, working on healing what looked like a broken leg. People here in Darktown were always getting injured—sad to say, but it came with the territory. Darktown was filled with the lowest of the low; people too poor to even pay to feed themselves most times. Which, in turn, always led to stealing, which led to fights, which lead to injuries—so on, so forth. But Anders understood their pain and wanted to help; something that Hawke would never hate him for. 

“Everything is going to be alright. Now, this might tingle, maybe even hurt a little, but just bear with me and you’ll be as good as new, alright?” Anders consoled his patient, his tone soothing. His patient, a young girl of maybe thirteen, nodded. Hawke watched as Anders had the patient lie down and close her eyes. He hovered his hands over the bruised, swollen part of the girl’s leg. Blue-ish green magic emanated from his hands and enveloped the injured area of the girl’s leg. She gave a slight grimace, but then her face relaxed into a look of relief. A slight smile spread across her face and Hawke noticed the girl wiggle her toes. Anders smiled at the girl, a strand of his blonde hair falling to cover his face as he continued to work his magic. After a few moments, the magic faded away and Anders took a step back from the girl. He held his hand out to her, “All done. Ready to try to walk again?”

 The girl took his hand and sat up. Tentatively, she slipped down from the table. She let out a surprised yelp and fell into Anders’ arms. He caught her gently, then carefully pushed her back so that she was standing on her own. Her grip on his hand was tight and she still wasn’t putting any weight on the leg. Anders nodded at her, “It’s alright, Marcine. I promise you that your leg is as good as new.”

 Evidently her leg had been broken for quite some time. She had gotten used to hopping around on just her left leg, keeping her right one from getting hurt worse.  Now, though, she listened to Anders and took a deep breath, slowly lowering her leg to the ground. She put little weight on, still worried that it might hurt. Testing it a bit, she shifted her weight to the leg, slowly at first, but then with more enthusiasm. When she realized it didn’t hurt, she took a step forward. Anders followed her, still holding the girl’s hand. Suddenly, she laughed—a beautiful, pure laugh—and enveloped Anders in a hug.

 “Oh, thank you so much, Anders! It’s all better! Now I can go help Ma in the shop again!”

 Giggling, she released his hand and took off, out of his clinic.

 “All in a day’s work?” Hawke teased. She had a smile on her face. She couldn’t help but giggle along with the girl earlier. Children had such infectious laughter, and such pure joy had easily spread its way into Hawke.

Anders turned to Hawke, smiling, “All in a day’s work,” he stated simply.

 Hawke let out a slight laugh, then pressed on, “You wanted to see me?”

 Anders’s smile vanished instantly. _Uh-oh.._ thought Hawke. Anders looked at his feet, “Um..yes, yeah I did. Come this way, please.”

 Hawke nodded and followed him further back into his clinic. There was a small room in the back with a table and chairs that allowed him and his other workers to take breaks when needed. The pair entered the room and Anders closed and locked the door behind them.

 “Thank you for coming,” he stated. “Please, sit.”

 Hawke sat at the table and Anders sat across from her. Hawke studied Anders: his tense shoulders, the fact that he was avoiding looking at her. Whatever he wanted to talk t her about, it was huge. He had been so carefree just moments ago while taking care of Marcine, but now was an entirely different story. He looked ready to flee at any moment.

 After a long pause, Anders took a deep breath and exhaled. He looked at Hawke, his eyes boring into hers, “I’ve found a way to separate myself and Justice.”

 Hawke’s heart stopped. It wasn’t too long ago that Anders had very nearly lost control of his mind to Justice. He had almost murdered a young mage girl over it. Hawke had been able to talk him down, though, but she knew he was still hurting over what had happened. But to be able to separate himself and Justice? The task seemed almost impossible.

 “Please, Hawke, say something,” Anders begged.

 “Alright, so you can get Justice out of your body. So what happens then? You die? I thought getting him out was impossible without you dying.”

 “No, no, no, you’re right. It was impossible-- _was_ being the key word there. I’ve discovered a safe and ultimately efficient way to separate us without harming either of us. Justice returns to the Fade and I remain here, in the world of the living, alive and well.”

 Hawke’s thoughts were reeling. If that was possible, _truly_ possible, then yes, of course she’d do anything for Anders. She was skeptical, though. She couldn’t imagine living without Anders; he had become such a close friend to her. She sighed before saying, “If you know--without a shadow of a doubt--that you will survive the process, then I will do whatever is in my power to help you, my friend.”

 She expected Anders to be excited, to be brimming with joy that she had so easily decided to help. Instead, his face was grim and he nodded. “Yes, good,” he said, averting his eyes from Hawke’s.

 The room was thick with the silence that stretched between them. It pressed on Hawke’s heart in a way she couldn’t explain. She was worried for Anders. She knew there was something more that he wasn’t telling her, but she couldn’t bring herself to force it out of him.

 “Whatever you need, Anders, I’ll be there. What do you need me to do?”

Anders sighed, standing up from the table. He walked towards a small window, looking out of it at the harbor below. Finally, he said, “There are just a few things I need. The way that I found..it’s just an old Tevinter potion recipe. You won’t like the locations of the ingredients.”

 “It’s alright, Anders, I’m sure I’ve found myself in worse places. Nothing really compares to the deep roads that I keep finding myself in.”

 Anders laughed and for that moment, his face was carefree again. He always had a certain charm about him that Hawke had grown fond of. She had pursued him for a while when they first met, but quickly realized that they just weren’t compatible. At this point, though, Hawke was happily with Fenris and—

  _Oh god,_ Hawke thought, _I didn’t even think of how Fenris would react. Shit, he’s going to be so pissed if he finds out._

Hawke kept the worry to herself, though, as Anders continued, “We have to go into the sewers for Sela Petrae—disgusting, I know, but it needs to be done.  From there, we’ll need to head to the Drakestone Mines for…well, for Drakestone.”

 Hawke nodded, “Alright, so when would you like to leave?”

 “I’ll need tonight to prepare. Go home and see Fenris. He should know where we’re heading.”

 Hawke nodded and stood. She walked over to Anders and touched his shoulder. He relaxed at her touch and turned his eyes to hers. She smiled gently at him, “It’s going to be alright, Anders. I’m going to help you through this.”

 Anders smiled weakly at her, “You’ve been such a great friend, Hawke. Better than I deserve. Thank you.”

 Hawke nodded and kissed his cheek. She wanted to do what she could to comfort him. He sighed and looked at her one last time before nodding and returning to his clinic. Hawke followed him out, waving goodbye to everyone as she left, then continued on to Fenris’s mansion.

 

* * *

 

“When are you ever going to clean this place?” Hawke teased. When she had gotten to Fenris’s mansion, she had found him napping in a chair by the hearth. He had gotten up and kissed her on the cheek as greeting, and now they stood talking over the fireplace.

 “I don’t know.. I kind of like it how it is. I don’t plan on staying here forever, you know.” Fenris’s voice was light, but there was a darkness to it that Hawke couldn’t quite understand. What did he mean? Was he planning on leaving again? Hawke felt her heartbeat begin to pick up. No, no, no.. He couldn’t do that to her again.

 “Hawke.. Hawke are you alright? Maker, Hawke, what’s wrong?” Fenris’s voice was layered with concern. Hawke hadn’t realized that her breathing had picked up as well. She probably looked like a frightened fox at this point.

 “Just…” Hawke started, her voice catching, “Just don’t leave. You promised.”

 “Oh Hawke, I didn’t mean it that way. I meant, you know..” Fenris paused, reaching up to scratch the back of his head and he turned away from her. “I meant, for future reference, maybe you and I could…find somewhere to live. That isn’t here. We could find our own estate and make our own name for ourselves.”

 Relief flooded Hawke. She knew he didn’t mean any time soon. As often as they were together anymore, both of them still needed their space. And as much as she loved being around him, there were things they both needed to get sorted before living together. Hawke smiled, and the smile grew even more when Fenris turned back to her and she noticed that he was blushing.

 “What?” Fenris asked, holding his hand at his head still, a bewildered expression crossing his face.

 “Oh, nothing,” Hawke teased, walking nearer to him. “It’s just…you’re cute when you’re blushing.”

 Fenris looked down at the ground, dropping his arm to his side, defeated. His blush grew deeper, but he didn’t hide his face from hers.

 “Talking about this stuff is hard for me. Intimacy is hard, in general. I’ve never had anyone care for me, Hawke, as you know. I’ve never even really cared for anyone. It’s all new to me.”

 Hawke’s smile faded, but her tone was still light, “It’s new to me too, Fenris. It’s alright. We can figure this out together.”

 She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. He was still extremely uneasy about being touched; it always seemed to dredge up the only memories he had of being touched--the memories of the lyrium being cut into his skin. Hawke grimaced at the thought. She hated thinking of what had been done to Fenris, what had been done to the man she loved. So until he could remember more of _her_ touch, until she could approach him without him flinching at contact, she would wait.

 Fenris smiled at her. He nodded, accepting her comfort, then asked, “So what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?”

  _Shit,_ Hawke thought. She had completely forgotten about why she had come here. Fenris needed to know about Anders and that she planned to help him.

 “Well uhh..” she started. _Off to a great start, Hawke._ “Well, how about we sit?”

 Fenris cocked an eyebrow, but obliged. He took his usual seat at the head of the table and Hawke took the seat next to him. She smiled nervously at him before continuing, “I spoke with Anders today.”

 “About?” Fenris’s voice was indifferent. She knew he hated Anders, but he had been tolerating him for her since he’d returned a week ago.

 Hawke swallowed her fear and pressed on, “He’s found a way to separate Justice from himself. He said it’s an old Tevinter potion recipe. He’s asked me to help him gather the ingredients.”

 “Absolutely not,” Fenris said. His tone was final, like there wasn’t going to be any further discussion on the topic.

 Anger flared in Hawke, “I wasn’t asking your _permission_ , Fenris. Anders is my close friend and I’m going to help him, whether you like it or not.”

 Fenris’s nose crinkled. Apparently, he was angry now, too. “Absolutely not, Hawke! Did he tell you the ingredients of the potion? Did he tell you that there’s a probable chance he’s not going to survive? And, say he succeeds and he and Justice are separated, who’s to say that Justice will return to the Fade? He could just choose to possess someone else! Anders accepted him willingly, but I can guarantee that if he loses his host while in a room _filled_ with potential new candidates, he would force himself into someone else. I will absolutely _not_ let you risk that.”

 Hawke stood, looking at Fenris, “You think I don’t know those things, Fenris?!”  She was raising her voice at him and she hated it, but her anger was shaping the tone of the conversation, turning it into an argument. She continued, “I _know_ that you don’t like him, but Anders is my friend. He needs my help, so I’m going to help him.”

 “Typical,” Fenris spit as he stood, “That’s so _typical_ of you, Hawke. Always wanting to save the world and everyone in it. When are you going to realize that not everyone can be saved?”

 His voice was low, and the ending of it came in a near whisper. His expression had turned defeated. He looked at the table, his shoulders slumped.

  _He’s talking about himself. He thinks that he’s past saving._

At the thought, all of the anger Hawke had been feeling evaporated. Instinctively, she reached out a comforting hand. Before she could touch him, though, Fenris jerked away.

 “Leave,” he commanded. He still wasn’t looking at her.

 “Fenris…” Hawke whispered, trying to get near to him. She hated the walls he had built around himself. She wanted to knock them down. She wanted him to be comfortable with her, to talk to her about his past and hurts; his regrets, his triumphs. Hawke wanted to know everything about him. She wanted to be able to comfort him when he felt like this.

 Suddenly, Fenris’s head snapped up, “Didn’t you hear me?!” he snarled, “Just go!”

 Tears welled in Hawke’s eyes. She had pushed him, maybe too hard. _Maker, I’m such an idiot._

Hawke let a choked sob escape her lips. Before she could see his reaction, she turned on her heels and ran. She didn’t know where she was going to go, but she continued running. She couldn’t return home, he would come looking for her there. Where else was there to go?

 Before she realized where she was heading, she ran to Bartrand’s old estate. Why was she running there? Of all the places, of course she was going to choose the one that had been “haunted” just years before.

 Once inside the mansion, she stopped running. Tears were streaming down her face, so she took a moment to gather herself.

 “Hawke,” a surprised voice sounded from another room, “What are you doing here?”

 Hawke looked up and found Varric in the library, studying an old book. The instant her eyes met his, she lost all the control she had gained upon entering the mansion. She collapsed on the floor, bending her knees and folding in on herself. She couldn’t believe she had let things with Fenris get where they were.

 “Oh, sweetheart..” Varric muttered before walking over to her. He knelt in front of her, putting a hand on her cheek and wiping away her tears. He put a finger under her chin and made her look at him, “Wanna talk about it?”

 Hawke shook her head and looked away from him. She wiped her tears and gave him a weak smile, “No, but thank you, Varric. I’ll be alright.”

 Varric nodded, “Thatt’a girl. Come, you need to rest. You’re tired, I can tell.”

 Varric was right. The day’s events had worn on her. She wanted nothing more than to just drift into a sleep and forget everything that was happening. Knowing what she needed, he led her to one of the cleaner rooms in the mansion.

 “Why don’t you stay here for the night? I’m sure whatever is bothering you won’t find you here.”

 Hawke nodded, agreeing, and entered the room. Varric smiled at her, “Sleep well, Hawke,” he said before shutting the door.

 Hawke walked over to the bed, climbing into the silk linen. It smelled slightly of dust—it hadn’t been used in years, after all—but Hawke was so tired she didn’t take notice. Her mind was reeling, but sleep overtook her anyway. Slowly, she forgot about the troubles of the day and drifted off into the darkness of her dreams. Tomorrow, she would go and help Anders; but for now, all she needed was some sleep.


	3. Deception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke helped Anders collect ingredients for the potion he needs to separate himself and Justice--despite Fenris's complaints. Hawke feels guilty, but she needs to do what she can to help her friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some blood in this one so if that bothers you, I'm sorry! Please be warned.

_Blood. There was blood everywhere. Hawke looked up and saw a wolf standing before her—no, it was more than a wolf. This thing was a monster. It stood 7 feet tall, taller than Hawke could ever hope to dream. Hawke’s heart was racing. She had tried so hard to save him. Who? Save who? Who was she trying to save?_

_The wolf lurked closer, blood dripping from teeth the size of Hawke’s forearm. Hawke’s world began to go cold. The wolf kept coming, its white hair bristled, its green eyes boring into hers. Green eyes, so familiar, but how?_

_Suddenly, the wolf lunged. It was on her and there was nothing she could do, no hope of escape. Her world began to go dark, swallowing Hawke, pressing on her. She was suffocating in the dark, struggling to breathe. **Help me.. Help me! Help--**_

“Sweetheart, wake up.”

Hawke’s eyes flew open and she felt herself take in a gasp of air. The room she was in was dark, only faintly illuminated by a candle in the corner of the room. She looked around, heart racing, until her eyes finally found Varric standing next to her bed.

“Varric?” Hawke asked. Her voice came out choked, thick. She brought a hand to her cheek and found that it was wet with tears.

“Yeah, it’s just me. I heard you crying so I came to check on you.  Everything alright?” His tone was soothing, slowly working on bringing Hawke back to reality. Hawke nodded and moved to sit up on the bed. She leaned back against the headboard, bringing her knees to her chest, trying to hold herself together. _What was that?_ she thought.

Hawke turned her eyes to Varric, resting her chin on her knee, “I’m sorry for waking you.”

Varric laughed and shook his head, “Hey, it’s alright. Want to talk about it?”

Hawke smiled weakly at him and shook her head. The dream was already fading from memory. All she could remember was the suffocating darkness and green eyes. She glanced out the window, “What time is it anyway?”

“You’ve only been asleep for a few hours, but I’m sure your family is worried about you. You should go home to check in.”

Hawke nodded and finally unraveled herself from the protective ball she had been sitting in. Varric turned to walk out of the room and Hawke followed him to the front door of the mansion. Once there, he opened the door for her then turned to her, “Be safe walking home, alright? I know we’re in Hightown but Maker knows there are plenty of freaks out here still.”

Hawke smiled at him and planted a kiss on top of his head. He swatted her away with a smile and closed the door behind her.

The night air was cold, brushing against Hawke’s face like a gentle caress. She shivered, crossing her arms across her body to try to keep in some of the warmth. She altogether avoided Fenris’s mansion on the way to her estate.

It wasn’t a long walk from Bartrand’s old mansion and the walk was relatively uneventful. She had stumbled across a few drunken templars and even more drunk city guard, but all knew who she was and knew not to make a pass at her. They nodded respectfully to her and she obliged them with a smile back. Other than that, there was nothing worthy to note.

Once home, Hawke slipped inside, trying hard not to wake anyone. Unfortunately, though, the hearth was still lit, which meant that someone was awake. She entered the main living area and found her uncle sitting in a chair near the fire. She cleared her throat, alerting him to her presence. He jumped and turned to her, eyes wild for a brief moment until he saw who was there. His face went from fear to anger quickly, “Luna.. Where have you—“ he started, then noticed the puffiness of her eyes. His anger melted away and he got up quickly to come hug her. She accepted his hug, even hugged him back. He sighed, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Uncle,” Hawke said, stepping away from him. She smiled before teasing, “I’m surprised you aren’t out gambling your life away.”

“I have more concerns than just gambling,” he muttered, turning away from her and sitting once more. He motioned to the chair next to him—an invitation for her to sit.

“I’ll pass, Uncle. I have business to attend to.”

“At this hour?” he asked, his tone bewildered. Hawke nodded and, ignoring all protests from her uncle, head to her room. She took the stairs two at a time and reached her room quickly. She shut the door behind her, hoping to use that as a sign to keep everyone out. It seemed to work.

Taking a quick breath to steady herself, Hawke moved to her bed where she had sloppily discarded her armor earlier that day. She figured she’d need it for the events to come with Anders—the sewers and bone pit definitely weren’t the safest places around. Her armor was made of leather and fit firmly against her muscled physique. She couldn’t risk wearing anything that could make noise when she was trying to sneak up on someone with her daggers. Since she risked being in close combat range with others, she also donned leather gloves to block as many incoming attacks as she could. Her boots were leather also, firmer than her regular shoes so that a swift kick to someone’s gut would hurt them, but not so thick that they made her feet heavy while sneaking around. Last but not least, she grabbed her daggers—two silverete, dual-sided daggers—and strapped them to her back.

After everything was on, she turned to the mirror she had in her room. She looked fierce—her blue eyes accented by the bold red paint across her nose that never seemed to fade anymore. Her pale complexion and black hair made the colors on her face pop even more. She looked like a warrior—something that she would always be proud of.

Quickly, she tied her hair back. If she was going to be fighting, she wanted to make sure that it wasn’t going to be getting in the way. When everything about her appearance was just the way she wanted it, she left for Anders’ clinic.

Now that Hawke was wearing her armor, the air didn’t feel as cold anymore. She chose to remain in shadow, not wanting to attract the attention of anyone that was out an about. It took a little longer than usual to reach Dark Town, but once there, she made it quickly to her friend’s clinic. The place was eerie at night—some of the injured remained over night to rest. There were two present now, one with a deep gash in his face that seemed to have taken his left eye and the other had blood-soaked bandages around her bare torso. Hawke didn’t linger near them and instead pressed deeper into the clinic.

Hawke found Anders in the room where he had asked her to come with him. She emerged from shadow with a smile on her face, “I knew you’d still be awake.”

Anders jumped, putting a hand to his chest, “Sweet Maker, Hawke, you scared the shit out of me!”

Hawke laughed, leaning against the door frame, “That’s what I’m here for. Are you ready to leave?”

Anders shook his head, “Just give me a moment, we’re waiting on a couple more.”

Hawke raised an eyebrow and moved to sit down across from Anders. He was still standing, pacing slightly, too nervous to sit still. Hawke studied him—the worried crinkles in his face, the way he constantly brushed the loose hair out of his face—and decided to interrupt after a moment, “Are you sure you want to do this, Anders? You don’t have to. I understand why you would be nervous.”

Anders stopped his pacing by the window and gazed outside for a long moment, seeming to contemplate if he was really making the right decision with Justice. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, “I’m ready. Am I nervous? Yes, of course. Nothing is guaranteed. Though I won’t die during this process, there’s nothing that’s going to stop Justice from possessing one of you or someone else in the city or…whatever. I would hate for my burden to just pass to another.”

Hawke stood, moving near him, and placed a hand on his arm, “Hey, it’s going to be alright. We’ll figure it out. I’m more than willing to share your burden, and I’m sure any of our friends would, as well. Well, most of them.. There’s a few that I know that wouldn’t be happy at all.”

Anders smiled weakly at Hawke, “You mean Fenris? He’s not happy that you’re here, is he? I figured he would come with you to make sure nothing happened to you.”

Hawke averted her eyes and smiled weakly, reaching up to put her hand on the side of her neck before saying, “Yeah, about that.. He doesn’t _actually_ know that I’m here. I told him I was going to come and he freaked out.”

Anders’ expression hardened. “Hawke..” he warned.

Hawke threw her hands up, “I told him I was coming! He said he didn’t want me to and I never _technically_ told him that I wasn’t going to; I think he just assumed I wouldn’t. But, Anders, you’re my friend. I couldn’t let you do this alone!”

“I’m not going to be alone, Hawke! I told you, I have more people coming. We’ll be fine. You go home.”

Hawke steeled herself, “No, Anders, I’m staying. I’ll deal with Fenris later.”

Anders let out an uncharacteristic snort, “Whatever you say, Hawke, but I’m going to make sure he knows that I told you to go back home.”

Hawke dropped her arms and smiled at her friend, “That’s fine. This is my decision and mine alone. He’ll understand that.”

Anders gave a quick nod and looked back out the window at the docks below. Just then, there was a knock at the door, and the pair turned to look. Aveline and Isabela were there, both dressed in their usual attire. Anders smiled at them, “Thank you for coming.”

“Anything for a friend,” Aveline said. Though she was generally distrustful of mages, she and Anders had always semi-gotten along. Hawke knew that Aveline would do anything if it meant ridding a friend of a great burden.

“I mean, we’re going to trope around sewers and the Bone Pit, what’s there not to love about that?” Isabela asked sarcastically. She had a smile on her face, though. She was always ready for some excitement.

“Alright, then, everyone ready?” Anders asked. When the three of them nodded, he smiled and the group of them left for the sewers.

Their journey through the sewers was nearly uneventful. There were a few groups of carta members and bandits that tried to ambush them, but all of them failed. Their team had perfect synergy—Aveline was the giant target, able to get in people’s faces and distract them while Isabela and Hawke snuck around and jumped on unsuspecting targets. Their blades together were a blur, striking quickly and efficiently before they both faded into the shadows again. Any time someone took too much damage, Anders was able to heal them from a safe distance; easily knitting their flesh back together so that they could go on fighting. The system was flawless and allowed them to get what they needed quickly and move on to the next challenge.

“This place smells horrid, do we have what we need yet?” Isabela complained after having to dig through the fifth deposit of Sela Petrae. She was splattered with the blood of the carta members they had just finished fighting, which gave her a fierce look.

Anders nodded, “That should be it, let’s move on.”

The bone pit was nearly the same except this time they had spiders to deal with, instead of the carta. _Much easier,_ Hawke thought. At least now she wasn’t taking human life. Hawke didn’t really enjoy fighting but did what she had to do to survive her party’s constant adventures.

“Aaaaand, that’s it.” Anders said, standing after collecting the last of what he needed of the Drakestone.

Hawke smiled at him, “Alright, let’s go home.”

* * *

 

“Hawke, can you stay for a moment longer?”

They were back at the clinic. They had all decided to have a drink before heading out, but once dawn hit, Aveline had realized she hadn’t slept at all through the night and decided that she needed to get some sleep before work. They had all agreed and were about to leave when Anders had spoken and asked Hawke to stay. Hawke stopped, waving at Isabela and Aveline to go on ahead of her so she could hang back and talk to Anders. She turned to him, a weak smile on her face. The sleepless night was wearing on her, too.

Anders expression was worried, which confused Hawke. She had just helped him do as he asked, but he was still worried. Why? She closed the door before asking, “Anders, is there more?”

“Yes, but I didn’t want them here. This is something best done with fewer people. Would you mind helping me with one more thing?” he asked, his tone pleading.

Hawke sighed. How could she not? She’d already helped him get this far.  “What do you need me to do?”

“Well..” he began, then paused to take in a shaky breath, “I need you to distract the Grand Cleric for me. There’s something I need from the Chantry and if she noticed me snooping around, I’d get turned to the Circle for sure.”

“What would you need from the Chantry?” Hawke asked, bewildered.

“I can’t say. I just need your help in getting it. Please, Hawke,” he begged.

Hawke thought for a moment. She already felt guilty for not telling Fenris she was actually helping Anders. If he found out that she helped Anders get into the Chantry unnoticed by distracting the Grand Cleric, he would be furious. On the other hand, Anders was her friend. And what she was helping him do was too important. It _needed_ to be done. Maybe then it would be easier for Anders and Fenris to get along. Hawke’s heart hurt, knowing that helping Anders now would probably hurt Fenris, but she needed to do it. Not trusting her voice to hide her displeasure, Hawke nodded, agreeing to help Anders.

“Really?” Anders asked, bewildered. Apparently, he hadn’t actually expected her to agree on such vague terms.

“Really,” Hawke stated, “Now let’s leave before I change my mind.”

Anders nodded and walked to the door, opening it for Hawke. They walked together toward the Chantry. The sun had finally broken over the horizon, casting glittered reflections off the waters of the Waking Sea. Hawke admired it for a moment before saying, “This is probably my favorite time of day. Not many people are awake yet, so the city is silent. But the sun shining on the water, the quiet of the day..it’s beautiful.”

Anders smiled, looking out at the water, as well, “I suppose it is, though I thought you never woke before noon?”

Hawke made an exaggerated gasping noise, putting her hand to her chest, “My dear Anders, you wound me. I am not that lazy!”

Anders laughed, “Maybe not, but you do like your sleep.”

Hawke smiled and dropped her hand back to her side, “I suppose that is true. I can’t deny that.”

Anders smiled at her once more as they fell into another silence. After a moment, his smile faded and he looked to the ground. “Hawke, whatever happens now… Just please know that this is my burden to bear. Nothing of this will be traced back to you.”

Hawke almost stopped walking at the sudden change of mood. She slowed a bit, looking at her friend. His eyes were sad, his posture almost defeated. She grabbed his hand for a moment, “Anders, what’s going on? You can tell me.”

Anders dropped her hand and looked away from her, “No, I can’t.. Just please trust me.”

“I do, Anders, you’ve never given me any reason not to. I just don’t want you to feel like you need to carry…whatever is going on..I don’t want you to carry it alone.”

“I always have,” Anders said sadly, picking his head up and looking toward the Chantry. They were almost there now. Hawke let the conversation fall to silence again. There was no use arguing with him when he had his mind made up.

They reached the Chantry a few minutes later. Anders stopped and turned to Hawke, “Alright, you go in first. I’m going to go in another way. I’ll come find you when I’m finished.”

Hawke nodded and turned without another word. There were few people in the Chantry—most were still in bed or at home preparing to come—which made it relatively easy to find the Grand Cleric. Hawke approached her, about to open her mouth to say something when _shit,_ she realized she hadn’t thought of what to distract her with. “So..” Hawke began awkwardly, “what is your opinion on everything going on?”

“Hawke?” the Grand Cleric asked, confused. “What a strange question to open up with. How about asking how I’m doing. Did you come here to pray?”

“No, I didn’t,” Hawke let out a nervous giggle, “I’ve just been thinking a lot and I wanted to get your opinion on the things that are going on around Kirkwall.”

“Hmm, well. It’s no secret that you count apostates among your friends, Champion. You have done much to fan the flames of rebellion here.”

Hawke winced. It was true that she had provoked some of the fighting between the mages and templars. She hadn’t done it intentionally, but it had sparked a flame that she was now struggling to put out.

The Grand Cleric continued, “We must give Meredith and Orsino time to work out their differences. No good can come of showing favor to one side.”

The Grand Cleric’s voice sounded sad. She hated the fighting that had sprung up around her city. She had had to deal with a rebellion in the Chantry already. Now she had to deal with finding a peaceful solution that the entire city could deal with. Hawke almost felt sorry for her.

“But surely you support the templars. It’s no secret that the Chantry isn’t overly-fond of mages.” Hawke pressed. She didn’t want to anger the Grand Cleric, but she also needed to conversation to continue for Anders’ sake.

“That’s not what I said. I do not support the knight-commander’s methods. But I cannot take sides. We are all the Maker’s creatures, but magic allows abuses beyond the scope of mortals. I only hope that I can balance the needs of everyone. For if it comes to war, it is the people of this city who will lose.”

Her voice was laced with such passion. It’s something Hawke had always respected in the Grand Cleric. Though Hawke wasn’t particularly religious, she supported the Grand Cleric in her goal for peace. It’s something Hawke always strived for, but she always found some way to anger one side or another.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you all over!”

Anders voice snapped Hawke back to reality. She turned to him, “Anders? What are you doing here?” Hawke hoped her voice sounded innocent enough.

“I’ve been looking for you, of course. I need to discuss something with you. Grand Cleric, if you would excuse us.” Anders bowed his head to her quickly. She bowed her head back, allowing them to leave. They both turned on their heels and exited the Chantry.

Once outside, Anders turned to Hawke and hugged her, “Thank you for your help, Hawke. You have been a true friend.”

Hawke hugged him back, giving him a squeeze, “Of course, Anders. Anything for you, my friend.”

Anders pulled away and smiled, “Now, off to bed with you. You definitely need some sleep.”

Hawke laughed and nodded, turning away from him and jogging toward her estate. She was excited to get home and sleep finally. Exhausted as she was, she had enough energy to get to her estate quickly. Once inside, she went straight to her room and closed her door.

“It took you long enough. Where have you been? I’ve been here for hours.”

Hawke froze, afraid to turn to the voice in her room. The voice that normally brought her comfort in her darkest times was now causing her heart to race. Why was he here? Why had he been waiting for her?

Gathering her thoughts, Hawke turned with a smile, “Fenris! What are you doing here?” Her voice was shrill. She was trying to compensate for the guilty feeling she had in her chest, and instead of her voice sounding normal, it came out high and airy. Nervous.

“Will you stop doing that, Hawke? Stop pretending everything is fine. It’s like you’re _lying_ to me.” His voice was filled with such anger. It hurt Hawke even more, but at this point she deserved it. She had spent her entire night sneaking around, doing everything she knew would upset him. Fenris raised his eyebrow, “So are you going to tell me where you were? I came to speak with you and you were gone. I figured you’d be home soon, but it’s mid-morning now. I’ve been here for hours.”

“I was at Bartrand’s old mansion sleeping,” Hawke stated. It wasn’t a full lie. She _had_ been there.

“You were sleeping in full armor?” Fenris asked, crossing his arms over his chest. _Damn,_ why did he always have to see straight through her?

“No,” Hawke finally said after a moment. “I, uhh.. I helped Anders. I helped him collect the ingredients for his potion.”

Fenris let out a low growl, turning away from her. She stepped forward, reaching out to touch him. He avoided her touch, moving towards the door. Hawke dropped her hand and looked at the ground, “I’m sorry, Fenris. I just don’t understand why you didn’t want me to help him.”

“Hawke, you idiot, I’m not mad that you _helped_ him. Did I agree with you going? No, I didn’t. But that was still your choice, I wasn’t going to take that from you. I just wish you would have _told_ me. I just..” He looked away from her, dropping his voice before continuing, “I just can’t bear the thought of living without you, Hawke. I wish you would have told me, so that I could have gone with you and protected you.”

Tears welled in Hawke’s eyes. Maker, she had been crying a lot lately. “Fenris..” she whispered, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. Please, don’t be angry.”

“I am angry, Hawke, there’s no changing that.” He turned his eyes to hers, dropping his arms back down to his sides before continuing, “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t forgive you. Just, please, if you’re going to be doing something that’s potentially dangerous, just make me aware. I would like to protect you. I will never stop you from doing something you believe in.”

So many emotions rushed through Hawke. She was so in love with this man before her. Of course he wouldn’t have wanted to control her decisions; that wasn’t him. She couldn’t believe she had been so _stupid_. She moved forward slowly until she was directly in front of him, then reached even more slowly to grab his hand. He watched her the whole time and when she finally touched his hand, his muscles twitched for a moment, but he worked to make them relax. She studied his face and he studied hers. He was nervous at her proximity, she could tell, but he was working to control himself. His eyes were clouded for a moment, as if he were trying to make a decision. Hawke raised an eyebrow and in that moment, his eyes cleared. His decision was made—he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

His lips were warm against hers. Hawke closed her eyes and pressed even more into him. She removed her hand from his, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck. He tensed for a moment, but pressed into her harder, snaking his arms around her waist to steady himself. The kiss turned from gentle to hungry—a feeling that Hawke had not felt from him since that night. He moved his hands to her sides, letting them run slowly down her body until they were on her hips, and he picked her up. Hawke wrapped her legs around his waist and he turned, pressing her against the door in the place he had just been. Heat ran through Hawke’s body.

After a moment, Fenris broke the kiss, only to move his lips across her cheek, down her jaw, to her neck. He placed gentle kisses on her neck, and with each one, Hawke let out a soft moan. She wanted him. She wanted him now more than she had ever wanted anything before. “Fenris..” she sighed.

At his name, he smiled against her skin. He placed one more soft kiss on her neck before putting her down. Disappointment flooded Hawke, but she didn’t want to push him into something he wasn’t comfortable with. He moved his lips to hers once more, bringing a hand up to place it against the side of her neck and hold her there. “Maybe another time?” he whispered against her lips.

Hawke nodded, placing a soft kiss on his lips again. “I’ll be here when you’re ready. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone for reading this! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, even though there wasn't much of Fenris in it. I hope I compensated for it in the end. Let me know your thoughts~


	4. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris decides he wants to start trusting Hawke with more so he arranged a trust exercise for the two to engage in.

“And _that_ , my friend, is how you win a game of Wicked Grace.”

Everyone cheered, raising their pints for Varric. Isabela’s face turned from shocked to angry. She crossed her arms over her chest, muttering something obscene at Varric. Hawke laughed, nudging her, “Ah, come on, Isabela. Don’t be such a sore loser.”

Isabela stuck her tongue out at Hawke and got up to order another drink. Hawke laughed again and turned toward everyone else gathered around Varric. They were all gathered in the Hanged Man celebrating the quietness that had seemed to fall on the city for the past few days. Somehow or another, Isabela and Varric had gotten in an argument about who was the better player at Wicked Grace. They said they were going to play best two out of three, but after Varric had won, Isabela had refused to back down. It took Varric winning eight out of the eleven games they played for Isabela to call it quits, apparently.

Cold air brushed Hawke’s skin as someone entered the Hanged Man. She turned to look and her heart skipped into her chest. It didn’t matter how many times she saw him, her heart would always skip a beat when she saw Fenris. He was such a beautiful man and Hawke felt lucky to have him, though he felt otherwise. Hawke never pushed her thoughts on him, though, and gathered them quickly as he approached her. He took a seat beside her, observing what was happening for a moment before turning to her. He glanced down at the ale in her hand, then back up into her face, “How much have you drank tonight?”

Hawke looked down at her cup then back at him, slightly confused by his question. He normally didn’t care how much she drank and had even had to walk her home a few times when she had had one too many.

“This is only my second one, and considering I’ve been here for hours with these two, I’m still pretty sober.”

“Good. I have something I would like to do, but I’d like you to be sober for it. May I steal you from this place?” Fenris asked, his tone almost playful.

Hawke smiled, “Only if we can call it a date.”

Fenris narrowed his eyes at her, “Fine,” he said. “It’s a _date.”_

Hawke laughed and nodded, agreeing to go with him. She turned to Varric and said jokingly, “Varric, my love! I am being kidnapped for the night. Be careful for flying daggers tonight!”

Varric waved at her, acknowledging that he had heard she was leaving, before turning back to his conversation with one of the regular patrons. Fenris stood and Hawke followed suit. She waved at Isabela before leaving, letting her know that she hadn’t forgotten about her. Isabela was still sulking over losing, but nodded at Hawke to acknowledge her.

Once outside, the world fell into a muffled quiet. They could still faintly hear the patrons at the Hanged Man, but the noise was soft. They turned in the direction of Hightown. They walked close to each other, brushing arms every now and then, but ultimately kept a slight distance between themselves that would make Fenris comfortable.

“Your relationship with that dwarf is such an oddity.” Fenris said, glancing at Hawke. He knew that Varric and Hawke were the best of friends, but the friendship had always confused him. Varric was just someone that Hawke was comfortable around. She knew that if anything went wrong, Varric would be there. On the flip side, if she ever wanted to go out and have a good time like she did tonight, he was there, too.

Hawke smiled at Fenris, “Are you jealous?”

Fenris crinkled his nose, “Of the _dwarf?_ Absolutely not. It’s just odd to me that of everyone you could consider a best friend, it’s him.”

“Well, I mean, my best friend _could_ be Merrill.” Hawke teased.

Fenris glanced at her, “On second thought, I’m glad that he’s the one.”

Hawke laughed, “I thought so.” She paused for a moment, noticing finally that they were walking towards Hightown, toward his mansion. She looked over at him, “So what exactly is this _date—“_ she emphasized the word, “—going to be?”

Fenris grinned at her, “You shall see.”

The rest of the walk was made in relative silence. The night was peaceful, as every night had been this week. Hawke admired the city she had come to call home. For everything that had gone wrong, they had rebuilt. There were hardly even signs of the Qunari invasion anymore. _Now if only the mages and templars would find a peace in their growing war…_ Hawke thought to herself.

It didn’t take much longer to reach Fenris’s mansion. Once inside, he led her to the main room of the house. He lit a fire in the hearth, then turned to her. He grinned, then motioned to a chair, “Please, sit.”

Hawke obliged, sitting in her usual chair. He sat next to her. Hawke thought back to the night he had opened up to her about how he had escaped Denarius. Her heart still hurt when she thought of his story—how he had so easily listened to his master upon Denarius’s return and slaughtered the people that had taught him the meaning of freedom. She would never understand what it was to be _owned;_ to be someone’s property, rather than a living thing worthy of love and respect. As much as she tried, she would never understand; but that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t work her hardest to make sure Fenris knew that he no longer belonged to anyone—and he never would again.

Fenris leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee, his face close to Hawke’s. His gaze was intense, boring into hers. Hawke felt her heartbeat pick up, and she swallowed, trying to get herself to calm down. Finally, he said, “I’d like to try something.”

Hawke glanced around. What was there to possibly try here? She turned her gaze back to his, raising an eyebrow, “And what is it that you would like to try?”

Fenris paused for a moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he said, “I want you to touch me.”

Hawke’s eyes widened for a moment in surprise, her heartbeat picked up again. Touch him? What did he mean? She hadn’t expected him to be so upfront with her about the topic, but of course she shouldn’t be surprised. That was Fenris; he never hid anything, even when it was something he wanted done.

“Alright..” Hawke began, nodding a bit. She averted his gaze. She normally wasn’t shy, but was finding she was when it came to matters of intimacy.

Fenris stood, walking toward the door of the study, “Come.”

Hawke stood and followed him to his bedroom.

 

* * *

 

Once inside his room, Fenris closed the door and turned to Hawke. He looked her up and down. _Maker_ she was beautiful, there was no denying that. He tried swallowing his nervousness, never taking his eyes from her. She was quiet, which Fenris appreciated. If she had teased him at all, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to follow through with this.

Without saying a word, he began working on removing his armor. He unhooked the clasps on his gauntlets, sliding them off and placing them on the dresser by the door. It didn’t take long for him to be in his underclothes—a black shirt that showed his tattoo-covered arms and black pants that hugged his legs tightly. He walked over to Hawke, her eyes never leaving him as he did. After a moment, he whispered, “I only want you to do this if you want to.”

“Yes,” she said back.

Fenris almost laughed, but held it back. Her answer didn’t make sense, but apparently she was just as nervous as he was. He took a step back from her and looked at the ground before saying, “I’d like there to be a word that I can say, just in case.. In case it’s too much.”

Fenris turned his gaze back to Hawke, studying her face. She seemed to be thinking about what he had said. Finally, she said, “The word can be Luna.”

Fenris raised his eyebrow, “Luna?”

Hawke’s eyes darted to the ground and she shifted her weight from one foot the other. A blush crawled across her cheeks, causing the red paint on her face to stand out even more. She swallowed, “It’s.. my name.”

“Your name?” Fenris asked. He was confused. All he knew her by was Hawke. How could he have not known her real name?

“Yes, it’s my name-- Luna Hawke.” She said, finally looking back up at him. She scratched the back of her head, ruffling her hair in a way Fenris found entirely adorable. She continued, “No one has really asked, and I answer to Hawke anyway so I never really thought the information important. But Luna is such a rarity for me to hear anymore that.. I don’t know. I figured it would be nice to hear you say it. It would stop me from doing whatever I was doing.”

Fenris paused for a moment, kicking himself for never asking her real name. She had just introduced herself as Hawke, so he had always just assumed that was her name. _Luna_.. he thought, then nodded. That would do for a word to use. “Alright, then, Luna it is.”

Finally, he walked past Hawke, taking a seat in the center of the bed. He turned his gaze to hers, studying it for a long moment. He wanted to put his trust in this woman, this woman that had entirely enticed his thoughts. He was hoping that by allowing her to touch him, to show him affection, it would help him begin his healing process. He had come a long way since he met her, but he was still nowhere that he needed to be. He held his hand out to her and she walked over, placing her hand in his and sitting on the bed next to him. He watched her the whole time, his heart racing. He needed to do this, so he swallowed his anxiety and laid on the bed, guiding her so that she sat on top of him, straddling his waist. He brought her hand to his chest, placing it there and holding it there for a moment, trying to still his racing heart.

“Remove my shirt,” he whispered, his voice wavering. He swallowed, closing his eyes as her hands moved to the end of his shirt and lifted it over his head. He sat up for a moment to allow her to do so, then laid his head back on the pillow. He took a deep breath, studying her eyes for a moment. Her eyes were filled with wonder, taking in the sight of his tattoo-covered body. He wanted to run, to hide, to cover himself so she couldn’t see the ugly tattoos that covered his body and did nothing but remind him of the past he doesn’t remember.

“You’re beautiful,” he heard her whisper. He closed his eyes, wanting to argue against her praise. He wasn’t beautiful, he was nothing special. He couldn’t believe that she— _Hawke of all people—_ thought otherwise.

It was quiet, no sound other than the sound of the fire cracking in the hearth and Fenris’s breathing. He kept his eyes closed. He couldn’t look at her.

Finally, he felt her lean forward, her weight on his hips shifting forward. He braced for her touch, nervous about how it would feel but excited at the same time. He realized that as nervous as he was he _wanted_ this-- _ached_ for it, even.

Her fingers brushed his jawline, tracing down the side of his neck. He was sure she could feel his racing pulse, and he took a shaky breath to steady himself. Her fingers continued down to his chest, his stomach, his waistline. She was avoiding touching his tattoos, he could tell. She traced her fingers back along the path she had taken, then allowed her other hand to join, trailing her fingers down both of his arms. Every shift in her weight sent a jolt through his body. He was nervous about where she would adventure next, but realized after a moment that he wasn’t _afraid_. He took in another shaky breath, steadying his resolve.

She continued to trace around his tattoos for a while. Her touch actually became relaxing, soothing his anxiety away. Why had he been so nervous about this? After a few minutes, she removed her hands from his body. He opened his eyes finally, looking at her. Her eyes were unreadable. She moved her hand slowly and this time he watched. She had wanted his attention for a reason, and she watched his reaction as she reached down and began tracing the tattoos on his arms. He flinched, expecting pain, but there was..nothing. Just her. Just her touch. He looked at her, studying her face as she began to move her fingers along his tattoos; up his arms, around his shoulders, down his chest. His heartbeat began to pick up again—this time out of something more than nervousness. Heat rushed his body, blood pumping towards his lower extremities. He didn’t want this moment to turn into _that_ , he just wanted her to touch him. He tried to control his body, but her hands on his body was too distracting. His mind started racing, he couldn’t think. He felt a panic rising in his chest, he didn’t want this, _no, please stop—_

“Luna,” he remembered finally. Instantly, her hands and body were off his. She sat next to him, cross-legged, hands in her lap. He took a few moments to gather himself, putting an arm across his eyes to block out everything in the room. He took deep breaths, calming his panicked breathing. Why had he panicked? Everything was fine until his body wanted more. But that wasn’t a bad thing, was it? He and Hawke had shared that experience before, so why was it different now?

* * *

“I am sorry,” Fenris said after a few moments. His voice was thick and Hawke noticed.

“Fenris, there’s nothing to be sorry for,” Hawke said, laying down on her side to look at him. She kept her distance, not touching him again until he was better. She studied him for a moment, admiring his tattoos. Her heart hurt for him. He had been through so much and she wanted nothing more than to just take that pain away from him. It would take time, but she was willing to work through it with him.

They spent several minutes in silence as Fenris tried to gather himself. When his breathing was finally steady, he moved his arm from his face, opening his eyes and turning his head to Hawke. She watched him try to gather his thoughts again. She didn’t want to speak, resigning herself instead to waiting for him to be calm once again. Finally, he reached out, grabbing her hand and pulling her closer to him. She moved across the bed, laying her head on his chest and curling her body against his side. She could hear his heart beating rather quickly still, so she avoided moving her hand to his body.

They laid together for a few minutes longer. With each passing minute, Hawke could feel the tension leave Fenris’s body. She closed her eyes, relaxing against him. Finally, he moved his hand to her hair, picking up a strand and twirling it absent-mindedly in his fingers. She smiled and fought a yawn.

“Have I ever told you the meaning of my name?”

Hawke opened her eyes at the sound of Fenris’s voice. She thought for a moment, trying to remember if he had. She couldn’t recall anything, so she shook her head.  Fenris continued, “It’s derived from the name Fenrir. Fenrir was a wolf god of an ancient civilization. Denarius used to call me his ‘little wolf’.”

Fenris shifted, turning on his side. Hawke moved her head to lay on the pillow next to his. He studied her face for a moment, a slow smile creeping along his face as he did. Hawke smiled at him, “What are you smiling about?”

“I was thinking of our word, if you will. Your name is Luna, meaning moon, and I am Fenris the wolf—completely entranced by the moon.”

Hawke felt a smile spread across her face. She hadn’t made the connection in their names, but she couldn’t have thought of anything more perfect. She fought back a giggle. She was so happy by what he said that the happiness threatened to burst from her lips. To avoid this, she asked, “May I kiss you?”

“I would welcome it, Luna.”

Her name on his lips made her giddy. She didn’t hear her name often, but she had always liked it. Having it come from his lips made her love it even more. She sat up slightly, leaning forward and pressing her lips gently against his. He brought his hand to her hair, twining his fingers into it and deepening the kiss. Hawke hesitated for a moment--not wanting to push him into something he was uncomfortable with--but when he moved closer, pressing his body against hers, all of her resolve left her mind. She put a leg around his waist and pushed her waist against his. He ran his hand from her hair, down her body, to her waist, and pressed himself against her. She felt a slight moan escape her lips and she shuddered, desire rushing through her body.

Suddenly, they heard a door open downstairs and a shout, “Fenris!”

Fenris growled, pulling away from Hawke and looking over her at the closed bedroom door. He looked down at Hawke, anger dancing in his eyes. Hawke sighed, touching his cheek, “It’s alright, Fenris. Let’s just go see what they want.”

Fenris shook his head, “What they want can wait,” he said, crushing his lips to hers again. Hawke closed her eyes, allowing his kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him on top of her. His hand drifted down the side of her body then found the tail end of her shirt. He let his fingers trace along the edge before he finally moved her shirt up, trailing his fingers up the bare skin of her stomach. She moaned, anticipating more of his touch—

“Fenris! I need to speak with you about an urgent matter!”

Fenris growled again and flew from the bed. Hawke adjusted herself, then sighed and followed him. They went down the hall to the main study and found Aveline standing by the hearth. Fenris put his fist on the wall, almost hissing at her as he said, “This had _better be good,_ Aveline.”

Aveline raised her eyebrow, glancing from him to Hawke. Hawke shrugged, and Aveline sighed, turning her attention back to Fenris. She straightened her shoulders, looking the fuming Fenris straight in his eyes.

“It’s about your sister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading~ let me know what you think! This chapter is really important to me and I really hope I wrote it to mean as much to others as it does to me. Ugh, I just love these two. Thank you all again for reading!


	5. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aveline tells Fenris news of his sister--that she's in Kirkwall waiting to see him. Fenris asks Hawke to come along, fearing a trap. And lo and behold, his fears are right.

_“It’s about your sister.”_

The words pierced Fenris’s mind like a razor. His heart stopped, then picked up double time. Had Aveline found her? Had he finally convinced Varania to come? His mind was reeling with anticipation, his nerves suddenly making his hands shake.

“What about his sister?” he heard from behind him. Hawke.

Aveline kept her eyes on Fenris as she continued, “She’s here, Fenris, in Kirkwall. The Hanged Man, to be exact. My guards saw her arrive this morning.”

Finally, Fenris spoke, “And you’re sure it _her?”_

Aveline nodded, “She matched your description. An elf with pale skin, bright red hair.”

This couldn’t be true. It had been three _years_ trying to track her down, then months more trying to convince her to come. What had changed? This had to be.. “Was she alone?” Fenris pressed.

Aveline’s eyes widened a moment, shocked at the sudden tone of voice Fenris carried, “Yes, she was alone.”

Fenris shook his head, beginning to pace back and forth. This had to be a trap, Danarius had to know that Hadriana would have told Fenris of his sister. It was too perfect for Danarius to not follow up on.

“Fenris?” he heard Hawke ask, interrupting his thoughts.

Fenris stopped pacing and slammed his hands on the table, “I need to know if it’s a trap!”

Aveline’s eyes narrowed, “You asked me to keep an eye out for your sister, Fenris, and I did. The rest is up to you now.” She started walking towards the exit, motioning to Hawke as she did, “You deal with him, Hawke. I can only handle him for so long.”

Fenris was still bent over the table, mind reeling. He wanted to see his sister, desperately. He hadn’t even known he had one and now she was _here_ , within walking distance from him. It was too good to be true, but he _had_ to know. He had to see her.

“Fenris, what’s going on?” Hawke asked, finally tentatively entering the room.

Fenris pushed up from the table, anger and uncertainty coursing through him, “Venhedis! Fasta vass!” He began pacing, not able to look at Hawke, “It’s my sister. I didn’t tell you but I followed up on Hadriana’s information. Everything she said was true! I had to keep it quiet, but I eventually contacted Varania and sent her coin enough to come meet me; and now she’s here.”

Hawke was quiet for a moment, drawing Fenris’s attention to her. He hadn’t wanted to talk to Hawke about looking for his sister. If the information had turned out to be false, it would have devastated him and he didn’t want Hawke to have to deal with that. So he had kept it quiet. Only now that he knew everything had been true, he didn’t know how to feel. His emotions were reeling and he was having a hard time keeping them in.

“Where did you find her? So she was in Qarinus after all?” Hawke asked, her voice hopeful.

Fenris shook his head, “My sister left Magister Ahriman’s service and I found her in Minrathous. That made things more difficult.. But according to the men I paid, it’s just as Hadriana said—she’s not a slave. She’s a tailor, in fact.” Fenris was proud about this fact, and Hawke could hear it clearly in his voice. “Getting a letter to her was difficult; she didn’t believe me at first… But she’s finally come.”

Apprehension filled his voice. The thought of being able to finally see his sister was an overwhelming one. He had been alone for so long and now he had family so near. The thought, he knew, was too good to be true.

Hawke clearly picked up on his anxiety and asked, “You’re worried that Danarius knows.”

A jolt went through Fenris. Had he been that easy to read? It would always baffle him how well Hawke knew him. He nodded, anger at the unknown filling his voice, “The more it seems he doesn’t know, the more certain I become he does! Come with me, Hawke,” he asked, his voice pleading. “I need you there when I meet her.”

And how true those words were. As scared as Fenris was over this entire situation, the thought of Hawke being there for him comforted him. He needed Hawke there in case this all went south, needed her more than anything.

Hawke moved forward, bringing Fenris’s attention acutely to her. His anxiety diminished with her near. After a moment, she asked, “Where is she?”

“Aveline said she’s at the Hanged Man. If we go there during the day, I’m sure she’ll be there,” Fenris paused, hesitating before his next words. Thoughts of what they were doing before Aveline had arrived crossed his mind; Hawke’s hands on his body, touching him in ways he hadn’t let anyone touch him. Gathering his courage, he pressed on, “It would mean a lot to me, Hawke. That’s all I ask.”

Hawke closed the distance between the two, reaching out and lacing her fingers with Fenris’s. Normally, Fenris would find himself flinching away from any kind of comfort; but he found that this time he needed it. He accepted the touch and tightened his fingers around her hand. He looked at Hawke before she said, “Fenris, I’m with you. No matter what.”

Fenris nodded, wanting to argue her words (why me?) but choosing instead to remain quiet. He smiled weakly at her, “Let’s get this over then, shall we?”

Hawke nodded, offering him a reassuring smile, and led him from his mansion.

 

* * *

 

 

Entering the Hanged Man was the hardest thing Fenris had ever done, but he had done so without letting on to that fact. He was scared, absolutely terrified, about what he would find on the other side of that door. Once inside, he quickly scanned his surroundings, looking out for any appearance of slavers or the like. His eyes came to rest on an elf sitting alone in the center of the room, red hair bright against the rest of her features. _Varania._

He walked over to her and, once near, she glanced at him before saying, “It really is you.”

“Varania?” Fenris asked, his tone hopeful. Flashes of memory came back to him—small hands reaching for a small girl with red hair, laughing, _you’re it!_ —before fading just as quickly. “I.. I remember you. We played in our master’s courtyard while Mother worked. You called me—“

“Leto,” Varania said, standing. She wouldn’t look at him as she spoke, “That’s your name.”

Why wasn’t she looking at him? Why did she seem so…regretful? Unease settled deep in Fenris’s core as he asked, “What’s wrong? Why are you so—“

“Fenris, we have to get out of here!” he heard Hawke plead from his side.

“Ah, my little Fenris! Predictable as always.”

_That voice. No!_ Fenris felt his entire world crumble around him. No one existed except for _that voice._ The voice he had been running from for six years. The voice that had tormented him for as long as he could remember. His entire existence centered around it. He slowly peeled his eyes away from his sister, looking at the staircase just behind her… And there he was. Danarius.

“I’m sorry it came to this, Leto.” He heard Varania say.

Anger, absolute fury, coursed quickly through Fenris’s body. He turned on Varania, “You led him here!”

“Now, now Fenris,” Danarius said, finally taking his place at Varania’s side, “Don’t blame your sister. She did what any good Imperial citizen should.” His tone was mocking, irritable, grating against Fenris in a way that only Danarius’s voice could.

“I never wanted these filthy markings, Danarius, but I won’t let you kill me to get them,” Fenris said. He had come too far, run so long, for this all to have been for nothing. He wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Danarius let out a mocking chuckle, “Oh, ho ho, how little you know, my pet.” He turned his attention to Hawke. Oh, God, Hawke. _No! Don’t look at her!_ Fenris wanted to scream, but held his tongue. Danarius continued, “And this is your new master, then? The champion of Kirkwall? Impressive.”

Of course Danarius couldn’t see what their relationship actually was. A relationship between lovers, not master and slave. Bile rose in Fenris’s throat at the thought of being Hawke’s slave.

“Fenris doesn’t _belong_ to anyone,” Hawke said. Fenris heard fury in her voice, absolute seething. She detested Danarius for what he had done to Fenris. He hadn’t even thought of how the situation would be affecting her.

“Do I detect a note of jealousy? It’s not surprising. The lad is rather.. _skilled_ , isn’t he?” Danarius asked, turning his mocking eyes back to Fenris.

Fenris clenched his fist, fighting the sickness threatening to escape his mouth. _Don’t you dare bring that up, not here, not to her! No! Please stop.._ Fenris felt the lyrium in his skin flare as his anger threatened to explode, “Shut your mouth, Danarius!”

Danarius sighed, his control slipping, “The word is _master._ ”

With that, Fenris couldn’t take anymore—he charged forward, only to be blocked by one of Danarius’s body guards. He growled, quickly cutting the guard down. He heard a dagger fly past his head, only to implant itself in another guard’s neck. Blood splattered, coating the man next to him. Chaos erupted. He heard screams as people ran for safety. His eyes never left Danarius as he ran back up the stairs to take refuge. He erected a barrier, something Fenris knew would be a waste of time trying to get through. Fenris turned to the next guard, cutting him down. Hawke was a constant presence at his side. Having retrieved her dagger from the guards neck already, she was a blur of death, popping in and out of shadow as she cut down guard after guard. It was a beautiful sight, although terrifying if he had been one of the guards.

Aveline was there with them too, blocking hits from guards before burying her own sword in their chests. Her shield was splattered with blood, her sword dripping. Next to her, Merrill danced away from swords, dodging them effortlessly before letting a bolt of electricity loose from her stave. Fenris had never thought to fight alongside a mage, let alone a _blood_ mage of all things, but he was glad to have her here.

While they fought, Fenris’s attention never left Danarius. It took an enormous amount of effort for Danarius to keep his barrier going, and Fenris knew it wouldn’t be long before the strength of it began to crack. He waited patiently for his moment to strike.

When the number of guards began to get too low, Fenris could see doubt cross Danarius’s face. Danarius had underestimated them, something Fenris had been hoping for. Danarius’s eyes found Fenris and narrowed—a challenge. Suddenly, demons and shades began to appear around the room, closing in quickly on the party.

Fenris cut down the last of the guard, his sword burying itself deep into the guard’s side. Fenris wrenched it free just in time to defend himself against a shade’s claw. He let out a shout, pushing forward and cutting down the shade. He noticed Aveline and Merrill were busy with a rage demon and Hawke was currently cutting down a shade. He knew they could take care of what was to come, so he finally turned his attention entirely to Danarius.

The barrier around Danarius had begun to flicker every now and then. It would come back, stronger than before, but quickly diminish until it could be easily cut through. Fenris began to make his way up the stairs, charging Danarius. A look of terror passed through Danarius’s eyes and his barrier disappeared at the distraction. Fenris raised his sword, bringing it down hard against the stave that Danarius had lifted to defend himself. Hatred coursed through Fenris—dark, black hatred that he had thought he had escaped—as he brought down his sword again and again and again against Danarius’s stave. Danarius tried to cast spells, but the effort of keeping the barrier up had proved too much for him.

Finally, Fenris saw his opening. Lyrium flared, and he plunged his hand into Danarius’s chest. He lifted him from the ground, fury bleeding into his voice as he said, “ _You are no longer my master._ ”

He closed his fist around Danarius’s heart, crushing it easily. Blood splattered against his face but he hardly took notice. Danarius’s heart had felt just like anyone else’s—he was human after all. The thought set itself uneasily in Fenris’s mind. Danarius had just been like everyone else.. So why had he been so afraid?

Slowly, he dropped Danarius to the ground. Just like that, it was over. Danarius was dead.. But nothing felt different. Fenris turned his attention to Varania, cowering against the wall. She lifted her hands, prepared to defend herself, “I had no choice, Leto.”

“Stop calling me that!” Fenris spit, turning his rage to her. He approached her, fighting everything in himself not to just rip her heart out right then.

“He was going to make me his apprentice. I would have been a _magister_.” Varania said, her tone pleading for him to understand.

“You sold out your own brother to become a magister?” Fenris asked, his tone incredulous. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You have no idea what we went through!” Varania yelled, anger rising in her voice. “What I’ve had to do since mother died! This was my only _chance._ ”

“And now you have no chance at all,” Fenris said, lyrium flaring again. He had wanted desperately to meet his sister, and for what? For this? Only to be betrayed?

He was about to plunge his hand into her chest when Hawke’s voice interrupted, “Wait! Don’t kill her.”

Fenris rounded on Hawke. He tried to draw in his fury but he couldn’t, “Why not? She was ready to see me killed.” He turned his attention back to Varania, back to what had been his only hope of not being alone. He had to force his next words, “What is she to me other than just one more tool of the magisters?”

“This is your _family_ , Fenris,” Hawke said, taking a step closer to them. Her tone was soft, trying to talk Fenris down from the edge. It was working, but he was afraid of what would be left when the rage disappeared.

Fenris hesitated, taking a few labored breaths, before he turned away from Varania and spit, “Get out.”

Varania ran towards the exit of the Hanged Man. Fenris didn’t turn to her, didn’t want to watch her leave.

“You said you didn’t ask for this, but that’s not true. You wanted it. You competed for it. When you won, you used the boon to have Mother and I freed.”

The words sent a jolt through Fenris. He didn’t ask to hear this, didn’t even want to know. He didn’t remember, didn’t have any desire to remember anymore. His breathing came in short gasps, his heart was racing. He was close to breaking. He whirled toward Varania, “Why are you telling me this?” he choked, holding back tears.

“Freedom was no boon. I look on you now and I think you received the better end of the bargain.”

There was a hatred in Varania’s words. Varania _hated_ him for setting her and their mother free. Fenris couldn’t breathe, so he turned away from Varania as she left the Hanged Man. All was quiet for a moment as Fenris worked to gather himself. The anger was dissipating and an emptiness that Fenris had never before felt was beginning to fill his body. Finally, he turned towards Hawke, keeping his eyes on the ground, “I thought discovering my past would bring me a sense of belonging, but I was wrong.  Magic has tainted that, too. There is nothing for me to reclaim. I am alone.”

“I’m here, Fenris,” Hawke said, her words desperately trying to comfort him. Fenris walked to her, placing a hand gently on her cheek and bringing his eyes to hers—such a deep blue that Fenris imagined he could get lost in them. She studied him and he gave her a weak smile before turning away again. He couldn’t bear the thought of having her know just how much he was falling apart.

After a moment, he turned back, “I feel unclean. Like this magic is not only etched into my skin, but has also stained my soul. Let’s go, I need to get out of here.”

He walked past Hawke, Aveline, and Merrill without looking at them. He just wanted to be home.

 

* * *

 

Hawke hung back, watching Fenris exit the Hanged Man.

“Are you going to go after him?” Merrill asked, casting worried eyes to Hawke.

Hawke nodded, “Yeah, I just.. Wanted to give him a moment.”

Merrill nodded, accepting her answer. Aveline sighed glancing around the Hanged Man, “You go on ahead, Hawke. I’m going to work on cleaning up this mess. Fenris needs you.”

Hawke gave Aveline a weak smile, “Thank you, Aveline. I’ll return when I can.”

Aveline patted Hawke on the back, turning to begin cleaning the Hanged Man. Merrill stayed with Aveline, going from patron to patron to make sure that they were alright. Hawke waited a moment longer before heading to follow Fenris.

By the time she exited the Hanged Man, Fenris was already gone. She sighed, hurrying towards his mansion. It didn’t take her long to get there, and she didn’t worry about knocking before she entered. She found Fenris in his bedroom, working to take his armor off with shaky hands.

“Kaffas!” Fenris shouted after his third try trying to unbuckle his gauntlet. Hawke hurried forward, intentionally kicking the door to make noise so that he knew she was there. He turned to her, his eyes unreadable. Hawke reached out, taking Fenris’s bloodied gauntlet in her hand. She worked silently, unbuckling the straps and setting the gauntlets on an old towel so that the blood wouldn’t stain anything. She moved to the rest of this armor and he let her. Eventually, he was only in his black shirt and pants.

“Thank you,” Fenris muttered, not looking at Hawke. His hands were still shaking. Hawke took them in hers, steadying them for him.

“I’ll be back in a moment, alright? Wait here,” she pleaded. Fenris nodded, compliant, so Hawke turned and went downstairs. They were both bloody from the fight still, but she didn’t want to leave him alone unless he wished it of her. When she was downstairs, she quickly rinsed the blood off her hands and arms, then moved about to gather towels, wetting most of them but leaving a couple to dry off with. When she returned upstairs, Fenris was still standing where she had left him. She sighed, “Sit, Fenris. Relax.”

Fenris looked at her, lost. Slowly, he sat on the floor, careful not to touch anything that the blood could stain. She walked over, kneeling in front of him. She picked up one of the wet towels and took his hand in hers, moving his arm forward so that she could help him wash off. She placed the towel gently against his arm, moving it along his forearm gently, rubbing the blood off of his skin. They were mostly quiet at she set about getting the blood off his arms, his neck, his face. When she got to his hair, she let out an exasperated sigh, “You’re going to have to bathe to get that out.”

Fenris nodded, “We can do it later. Thank you for cleaning me off.”

Hawke set the towels to the side, studying his face for a moment. Finally, she asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Fenris was silent for a moment. When he finally began to speak, he avoided Hawke’s eyes, “Danarius is dead. I am free..yet it doesn’t feel as it should.”

“You aren’t.. happy?” Hawke asked, tentatively. She didn’t want to risk upsetting Fenris further. She had no idea how he felt. All she knew was that she wanted to help.

“I thought that I would be. I thought that if I didn’t have to run and fight to stay alive, I would finally be able to live as a free man does. But how is that? Whatever past I had died with my sister. I have nothing now—not even an enemy.”

“You have a future, Fenris. Only now you have nothing holding you back.”

“Hmm, an interesting thought,” Fenris said, finally turning his gaze to hers. “It’s just.. difficult to overlook the stain that magic has left on my life. If I seem..bitter, it’s not without cause.”

A silence fell over them. Hawke didn’t want Fenris to feel forced to talk about anything he wasn’t ready to talk about. After a moment, Fenris continued, “Perhaps it is time to move forward. I just don’t know where that leads. Do you?”

His tone was pleading. Fenris was lost and was looking to Hawke for guidance, but all she could think were selfish things. Yes, there was nothing holding Fenris back anymore but _please don’t go._ He could go anywhere he wanted, be anything he wanted to be but _please stay with me._ Without thinking, Hawke said, “Wherever your future leads, I hope we stay together.”

The words fell over them in a soft blanket of silence. Slowly, Fenris let himself smile before saying, “That is my hope, as well, Luna. If there is a future to be had, I will walk into it gladly at your side.”

The words sunk slowly into Hawke’s mind. Fenris had the choice of doing whatever he wanted to do now that Danarius was dead, but he was choosing to stay with _her_. Tears welled in her eyes, and—unable to contain herself—she pushed herself into Fenris’s arms and kissed him. He gathered her to himself gladly, tightening his hold on her. They stayed like this for what seemed an eternity before Hawke broke away slightly, “I’m glad that you’re choosing to stay.”

Fenris kissed her once more, running a hand through her hair before leaning back to look at her.

“Luna, I would not dream of doing anything else. I am home.”

And with that, he pressed his lips to hers once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt it necessary to add a lot of in-game dialogue to this chapter, but obviously had to embellish at some points because of the way I chose to write the story. I hope none of it was distracting or disrupted the flow of the story. Thank you so much for reading!


	6. The Last Straw, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke has a meeting with Orsino that goes south rather quickly and leaves Hawke and company fighting for their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't mentioned through this whole fic that I'm writing this based on my first Hawke--female, diplomatic, rogue. She trusted everyone and wanted to be everyone's friends. Hence why she so willingly helped Anders at the cost of a fight with Fenris. That said, enjoy this chapter of her regretting her decision to help him.

The sounds of birds singing drug Hawke peacefully into wakefulness. She sighed, rubbing her eyes and stretching as she turned to the body next to her. Fenris was there, still sound asleep, his breathing slow and even. Hawke smiled, studying him for a moment. The sunlight glinting through the window illuminated his face in an ethereal glow. Fenris was always beautiful but Maker, was he perfect in the morning. His face was slack, peaceful, free from the burden of the nightmares he carried with himself every day.

Hawke moved a tentative hand forward, brushing her fingertips along the bare skin of Fenris’s chest. He stirred instantly, a light moan escaping his lips as he opened his eyes. Hawke smiled, “Good morning, my love.”

Fenris seemed confused for a moment until his eyes came to rest on Hawke’s. Confusion changed to joy, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He put his hand over Hawke’s on his chest, bringing her fingers to his lips before whispering a gentle, “Good morning.”

“How did you sleep?” Hawke asked, trailing her fingers from his lips and placing her hand on his cheek. He closed his eyes, relishing her touch. She traced soft circles with her thumb on his cheek.

“Better than I have been, thanks to you,” Fenris said, turning his head to kiss her palm. Hawke held back a giggle—apparently her elf loved kissing in the morning. She didn’t mind, of course. Fenris raised an eyebrow at her smile, “Anything I should know?”

“Nothing, dear,” Hawke teased, propping herself up on her elbow and leaning forward to place a kiss to the elf’s lips. After, she sat up in the bed, letting the sheet fall from her bare chest as she stretched. She heard an intake of breath from Fenris, and she turned to him quizzically.

Fenris swallowed, sitting up to kiss Hawke’s bare shoulder, “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on, Luna Hawke.”

Hawke felt a blush creep along her cheeks and she fought covering her body again. She looked away from him and shrugged, “Apparently you haven’t laid your eyes on many women, then. There are plenty more beautiful than I.”

Fenris put a hand under her chin, bringing her face to his and whispering softly against her lips, “There is no one more beautiful than you, my love.”

His breath on her lips caused heat to rush through her body. She shuddered, fighting hard to ignore the feeling. She had so much to do today and, as much as she wanted to, couldn’t spend her day in bed with Fenris. She sighed, moving away from him and standing. “I should go wash up. I have to meet with Orsino this afternoon.”

Fenris nodded, laying back on the bed. Hawke resisted the temptation to get back in bed and trace patterns over his bare torso. Flashes of the past few nights rose in her mind and she felt her cheeks flush again. She looked away quickly, clearing her throat and gathering her clothes off the floor. They had been discarded rather..hurriedly the night before.

Fenris smiled at Hawke’s blushing cheeks and he pat the bed next to himself, “There’s plenty of time for you to come back to bed.”

Hawke blanched, shaking her head, causing Fenris to laugh. “A joke, Hawke. Go, get ready for the day. I shall be here when you return.”

Hawke nodded, hurriedly shuffling out of the room. She walked to the washroom down the hall, closing the door behind her. Once alone, she brought her clothes to her face, hiding the ridiculous smile now covering her features.

Hawke had been staying with Fenris since the night that they had confronted Danarius. He had asked her to stay that first night, afraid of what nightmares would plague him after being forced to deal with his past. Hawke had happily obliged, which had turned out to be a good thing. She woke in the middle of the night to find Fenris trapped in his nightmares—sweating, shaking, screaming. She had gently kissed him awake and brought him into her arms, holding him until the terror had subsided. He fell asleep again in her arms and they had slept peacefully the rest of the night. Each night after, he had asked her to stay. To Hawke’s knowledge, his nightmares had eventually diminished, allowing Fenris to sleep through the night undisturbed.

Last night had been…a pleasant surprise for Hawke. As usual, Fenris had asked her to stay and she had agreed. They had been laying in bed while Hawke told a particularly intriguing story of her and Bethany getting caught teasing Carver and how they had received a most fitting punishment from their father when Fenris suddenly leaned in and kissed her. Hawke had been surprised, but allowed it, wondering where the moment had come from. Kisses turned from sweet and innocent to greedy and _needing_ in only moments. It was the first night of physical intimacy that they had truly shared since their first night together.

Hawke sighed, her thoughts on their night together as she moved about the washroom to get ready. She slipped into her underclothes—a tight, black top and black leggings—then moved to the mirror to arrange her hair. After a few failed attempts of trying to get it to lay just right, she let out a frustrated sigh, deciding to just tie it back. Once finished, she splashed her face with some water, put a small amount of vanilla-scented oil on her wrists and neck, then left the room to return to Fenris.

He had gotten up from the bed and was already dressed in his armor. A slight stab of disappointment shot through Hawke; she had rather enjoyed seeing Fenris bare-chested. He turned to her when she entered and smiled, walking over to her and placing a soft kiss on her cheek. Hawke felt a flush across her cheeks at the new-found intimacy between them, but swallowed her childish embarrassment and asked, “Ready?”

Fenris stood, nodding, “I am. Lead the way.”

Hawke nodded, turning on her heels to exit the mansion.

 

* * *

 

 

After stopping by Hawke’s mansion momentarily for her to don her armor, she and Fenris turned their direction to the gallows. On the way, they ran into Aveline and Merrill talking amongst one another in the Chantry courtyard. After briefing them on the letter Hawke had received from Orsino, both decided to join her and Fenris on their trek.

The walk to the gallows was mostly quiet. Something wasn’t sitting well with Hawke and the rest of the party could tell. Hawke’s suspicions turned out to be right when they neared the gallows and saw smoke rising over the walls. Hawke shot a quick glance to Fenris and he nodded, indicating that he saw the smoke, too. The party broke into a run, closing the distance to the gallows courtyard in mere seconds.

The scene wasn’t much different than what had been happening lately. Meredith and Orsino stood at the base of the stairs to the tower, arguing. Their voices carried easily over the stillness of the courtyard.

“I _will_ have the tower searched! Top to bottom!” Meredith yelled at Orsino, pointing the tower to emphasize her point.

“You cannot do that! You have no right!” Orsino yelled back.

“I have _every right,_ ” Meredith said, her tone commanding. “You are harboring blood mages, and I intend to root them out before they infect this city!”

"Blood magic,” Orsino spat, throwing his arms up in frustration, “Where do you _not_ see blood magic? My people cannot _sneeze_ without you accusing them of corruption!”

Meredith lowered her voice, “Do not trifle with me, mage. My patience is at an end.”

Hawke finally reached the pair and took a quick look between them, “Enough!” she commanded. “You two need to settle this, now.”

Meredith reeled on her, narrowing her eyes in annoyance, “This does not involve you, Champion.”

“I called her here,” Orsino cut in. “I think the people deserve to know what you’ve done.”

Meredith wheeled on him, “What I have done is protect the people of this city, time and again. What I have _done_ is protect you mages from your curse and your own stupidity.” She turned, continuing her speech to no one inparticular, “And I will not stop doing it! I will not lower our guard, I dare not!”

Hawke had had enough. These two were supposed to be defending the city, working together to help the advancement of the Circle and the help it provided. Instead, the continuous arguing had torn the city in two, and Hawke was at her wits end trying to keep things stable. “This fighting needs to stop. You both set quite the example for your people, you know that?”

“What other option do we have?” Meredith demanded. Lowering her voice to evoke pity, she continued, “Tell me, Champion, that you have not seen with your own eyes what they can do? Heard the lies of the mages that seek power?”

Hawke thought for a moment back to Danarius, back to Hadriana, back to the pain that they had inflicted on the man she loved.  Then she thought of Anders, of the healing he did every day that helped the people of Lowtown hope for a better tomorrow. She didn’t understand magic, would never understand magic. She had seen the best and worst of it; but Meredith’s constant revilement of the mages had to come to an end.

“That’s no excuse, Meredith. They’re not the only ones that lie and seek power,” Hawke accused, narrowing her eyes at the woman in question.

Orsino stepped forward, “You would cast us all as villains, but it is not so!”

There was a pause for a moment as Meredith considered his words. She turned and continued, her voice sad, “I know, and it breaks my heart to do it, but we _must_ be vigilant.” Anger began to rise in her voice again as she pressed on, “If you cannot tell me another way, do not brand me a tyrant!”

Orsino bowed his head in frustration, “This is getting us nowhere. Grand Cleric Elthina will put a stop to this.”

“You will not bring her Grace into this!” Meredith growled, grabbing Orsino’s arm and holding him back from exiting the courtyard.

“The Grand Cleric cannot help you!” A voice rang from behind Hawke. She turned, seeing Anders approaching from the main gate. When had he gotten here?

Meredith turned on him, “Explain yourself, mage.”

“I will not stand by and watch you treat all mages like criminals, while those that would lead us bow to their templar jailers!” Anders said, pointing the accusation at Orsino.

Orsino bristled, “How dare you—“

“The Circle has failed us, Orsino!” Anders shouted. “Even you should be able to see that! The time has come to act! There can be no half-measures.”

As he spoke, his body began to glow blue as it did when Justice had more hold on his mind than himself. Hawke’s heart dropped. What had happened to the potion? Why was Justice still a part of him? “Anders,” she pleaded, dread filling her heart. “What have you done?”

“There can be no turning back,” he said, sadly.

Suddenly, the ground around them began to shake. They all held their arms out, bracing themselves against the sudden rhythm of the ground. A red light flashed across the sky and they all turned just in time to see the light burst from the Chantry, an explosion that ripped the Chantry apart from the ground up. Bile rose in Hawke’s throat as she realized there had never been a potion, that Anders had lied to her and manipulated her the day he had asked for her help. She had done this. She had caused this by putting trust in her friend. She fought collapsing to her knees in a moment of weakness.

Silence followed the destruction of the Chantry until finally, Meredith spoke, “Maker have mercy..”

“There can be no peace,” Anders said, avoiding Hawke’s gaze.

Around them, people fell to their knees in grief or prayer. A few turned their hate-filled gazes to Anders. Orsino turned on Anders, whispering in angered disbelief, “Why? Why would you do something like this?”

“I removed the chance of compromise because there is no compromise. “ Anders said, pleading with Orsino to understand.

“The Grand Cleric has been slain by magic, the chantry destroyed,” Meredith said, hatred beginning to fill her voice. She turned to the crowd gathered around them, “As knight-commander of Kirkwall, I hereby invoke the Right of Annulment. Every mage in the Circle is to be executed—immediately.”

Gasps of surprise ensued from the crowd. Hawke noticed a few templars bring their hands to the hilts of their swords, a few mages reach behind them in preparation to draw their staves. Orsino turned frantically to Hawke, “The Circle didn’t even do this! Champion, you can’t let her! Help us stop this madness!”

Meredith turned her steely gaze on Hawke, “And I demand you stand with us! Even you must see this outrage cannot be tolerated!”

“It can’t be stopped now,” Anders said, turning to Hawke. “You have to choose.”

Anger rose in Hawke, an anger she had never felt before—the anger of betrayal. It was hot, demanding, coursing through her veins and making her blind to anything else. “You lied to me,” she seethed.

Anders face fell and he looked to the ground, avoiding her gaze once more, “I know, Hawke. And I’m sorry.”

“Do you even realize what you’ve started here!?” she demanded, her voice thick with resentment.

“I do. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier. The Circle is an injustice, in many places beyond Kirkwall. The world needs to see!” There was no sign of regret in his voice, completely negating the apology he had just given Hawke.

“You fool!” Orsino intervened, “You’ve doomed us all.”

“We were already doomed,” Anders said, his voice resigned. “A quick death now or a slow one later—I’d rather die fighting.”

“And what about the victims, Anders?” Hawke demanded, ignoring the guilt threatening to choke her. “You’re a murderer! The Grand Cleric, the mages… Their blood is on _your_ hands.”

The implications of her statement were not lost on Anders. What she had done was under the pretense of helping a friend. If she had even a fraction of an idea of what was really happening, she wouldn’t have helped him. Anders nodded, then said simply, “I know.”

Meredith shook her head, “It doesn’t matter. Even if I wished to, I could not stay my hand. The people will demand blood.”

Hawke shook her head, turning her gaze to Orsino, “This won’t be easy, but I’ll defend you.”

“Hawke..” Fenris warned behind her, stepping forward to draw her eyes to him. “You would defend these mages, after all they have done? Throw yourself at a hopeless cause?”

Hawke felt her heart drop. She knew Fenris’s feelings on mages, but surely he could see that what Meredith was doing was wrong? She wanted to _kill_ every mage within the Circle. It was something Hawke could not stand for.

“Think carefully, Champion,” Meredith warned. “Stand with them and you share their fate.”

Hawke kept her eyes on Fenris a moment longer, pleading with him to understand. He gave a curt, short nod—indicating that he would stand with Hawke no matter her decision. She felt her spirits lift, ever so slightly. She straightened her shoulders, turning to Meredith and saying, “I’ve made my decision. I can live with that.”

“I’m with you,” Fenris said in reassurance behind her, stepping forward and lacing his fingers in hers. Hawke gave his hand a gentle squeeze, thanking him silently for the reassurance.

Meredith narrowed her eyes, “You are a fool, Champion.”

At once, both her and Orsino turned to their followers, shouting orders of defense to them. Hawke drew her daggers, throwing herself into shadow as the templars ran forward. She leaped to the side, avoiding the templar that had been running straight for her, and hurriedly turned to stab him in the back.  Her stealth fell from her as her dagger sank into the templar’s back. He coughed once, blood spraying from his mouth, before falling dead to the ground.

Hawke turned, surveying the chaos that had erupted in the courtyard. Meredith had fled, gone to gather the rest of the templars to storm the Circle tower. Fenris, Merrill, Aveline, Isabela, and Varric all fought to defend the mages on the other side of the courtyard. Hawke rushed forward, joining the battle once more.

When all the templars had fallen, a sad silence fell across the group. Orsino moved forward, looking at one of the fallen templars. “So it’s come to this..” he whispered sadly before turning to Hawke and saying, “I don’t know if we can win this war, Champion, but… thank you. I will leave your..friend for you to deal with. I must return to the tower. Meet me there as soon as you can.”

Hawke nodded as Orsino left. She turned her attention to Anders, who had taken a seat on a crate still left intact. She walked up behind him, anger coursing through her veins at his betrayal. She was about to speak when Anders interrupted, “There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already said to myself. I took a spirit into my soul and changed myself forever to achieve this. This is the justice that all mages have awaited.”

“Did that spirit ask you to do this?” Hawke demanded angrily.

“No,” Anders said, shaking his head. “When we merged, he ceased to be. We are one now. I can no more ignore the injustice of the Circle than he could.”

“That’s a convenient excuse,” Hawke spit, shaking her head in disbelief. “So it’s up to _you_ to decide how things should be?”

“It’s obvious how things _shouldn’t_ be,” Anders said, an angered passion rising in his voice. “The people fear what we can do, but to use that fear to bludgeon us into submission is wrong! And they do it with our blessing! And if I pay for that with my life…then I pay. Perhaps then Justice would at least be free.”

He wasn’t wrong, Hawke knew. The templars had overstepped their bounds time and time again, but everyone had been turning a blind eye to it. Hawke sighed in frustration, shaking her head, “I will not make you a martyr by killing you. Just go.”

Anders bowed his head, cradling his face in his hands. “Thank you for my life. I’ll try not to make such a mess of it this time.”

And with that Anders stood and walked away.

Hawke took a moment to gather herself, taking in a shaky breath and exhaling slowly. She turned to her group—all of them looking to her for the next move. She looked at them all in turn—Varrric, Isabela, Merril, Aveline, and finally Fenris. Her eyes lingered on his, looking for verification that she was doing the right thing. He gave her a nod and that was all the reassurance she needed.

Stiffening her shoulders, the ache of Anders betrayal still hot in her mind, she turned her direction to the tower. Behind her, she heard the sound of the approaching templars—coming to back up the ones they had just killed, no doubt. The sound of their approach was all Hawke needed to follow Orsino’s trail into the tower.

Once inside, the mages shut the door behind the party. Hawke’s companions gathered in a circle around the room, taking a moment to steady themselves and their thoughts. Hawke didn’t hesitate before going to find Fenris. When she neared, he looked up, studying her as she approached. A slow grin spread across his face as he said, “Here I am, about to defend these mages in hopeless battle. You lead me to strange places, Hawke.”

Hawke couldn’t help but smile, stifling a laugh. She was happy that he wasn’t angry with her for her part in all of this, or for siding with the mages in the end. There were so many things that he should have been angry with her for, but he wasn’t—he was _here._ And that was enough to lift Hawke’s spirits.

“I’ll take you to stranger places than this, just watch,” Hawke said with a purr. Here they were, about to battle for their lives and for the lives of others around them and Hawke was making embarrassing attempts at flirting.

Fenris chuckled, “A tempting offer.” Sobering, he looked at the ground, seemingly steadying his nerves before he continued, “I.. may not get the chance to say this again. Meeting you was the most important thing that ever happened to me, Hawke,” he reached up, touching a gauntleted hand to cheek. The metal was cool, but the part of his hand that was exposed underneath was warm. Hawke leaned into his touch, savoring the moment. Fenris continued in a pleading whisper, “Promise me you won’t die. I can’t bear the thought of living without you.”

Hawke felt disappointment surge through her body when he pulled his hand away. She wanted nothing more than to just forget all of this was happening and return to his mansion with him. She thought back to that morning, waking up next to him, the peaceful look on his face as he slept. She wished she could go back to that moment.

“I feel the same, Fenris,” Hawke said, determined for him to know how much he meant to her. “I don’t make that promise unless you do.”

Fenris rushed forward, then, gathering Hawke into his arms. “Nothing is going to keep me from you,” he growled under his breath before crushing his lips to hers. Hawke was startled for a moment, shocked at the intensity of the kiss while their companions looked on. It didn’t take long for her to follow suit, though, desperately clinging to him as their kiss continued. They both knew that they could die in this battle, the words were unspoken in the dance of their lips but they were _there_. Fear mingled in their passion until, behind them, Varric cleared his throat.

“Alright, lovebirds, that’s enough. We should probably get to the task at hand, here.”

Hawke broke away with a grin, turning in Fenris’s arms to tease Varric, “Awh, Varric, do I detect a note of jealousy?”

Varric snorted, “Unfortunately, sweetheart, that’s not meant to be. I’m spoken for.”

“Ah,” Hawke said with a laugh, “Bianca’s standing in my way again, isn’t she?”

Varric shrugged, a smile on his face, “What can I say, Hawke? She’s the jealous type.”

Orsino cleared his throat, then, walking forward and saying, “If you’re quite finished. I believe that battle is almost upon us.”

Hawke, detecting the apprehension in his voice, reluctantly stepped from Fenris’s arms towards Orsino, “You don’t believe there’s a chance of winning this fight?”

Orsino sighed, glancing towards her, “With you on our side? Perhaps. But, even if we win, what then? More templars would come, with even larger armies. We are apostates now—“ his voice contorted in anger at the word, “—our only hope lies in the circles elsewhere in Thedas. They could rise up with us against this injustice. I assure you, however, we will find sympathy nowhere else.”

“Then I suppose we have no choice,” Hawke stated. She was as ready at this point as she could be. Determination rose within her, coloring her voice with passion, “Let them come.”

“Very well,” Orsino said, turning his back on Hawke, “You will need to give orders to your companions. I shall do the same for my people.”

Hawke nodded in agreement and turned towards Fenris. Her other companions gathered around him, looking to her for guidance. When had she become a leader? She thought back to when she and her family had fled Lothering, how she had fearfully taken the lead and guided them instinctively towards safety. She had never asked to be the Champion, had never asked for people to look to her for guidance. Yet here they were—Fenris, Varric, Aveline, Merrill, and Isabela—her closest friends, looking to her for the next move.

A crash sounded at the doors of the tower. Hawke glanced up, noticing that the templars were finally at the doors. Taking a breath, she called her companion’s attention back to her, “We’re cornered. The templars know it. You know it. But this is bigger than their hate… their fear. They’ve come to take your lives, and we are saying no. We didn’t want this but sometimes… “ Hawke faltered for a moment, trying to think of what to say next. She hadn’t really planned where she wanted to go with her speech from the start, she had just started talking. But she knew, without a doubt, that her companions needed her to be strong now. So, with that, she pressed on, “Sometimes you just have to stand.”

It was a lame ending to her speech, and she felt her cheeks redden slightly in embarrassment. But after a quiet moment, Aveline gave a shout. Merrill followed suit, cheering Hawke on. Hawke turned her eyes to Fenris, who had a smile on his face and gave her a reassuring nod. Hawke broke into a smile, happy to know that she had inspired her friends.

Shouts near the entrance caused everyone’s attention to jerk to the immediate problem—the templars were finally breaking through. One final crash and the door exploded, causing the mages guarding the entrance to emit a cry. Some splinters from the door pierced one of the mages through their throat. He coughed once, blood splattering down his chest, before falling.

Hawke’s eyes narrowed as she drew her daggers from their sheaths. Her companions followed suit. The templars rushed through the door, cutting down the mages that were trying to fall back. Hawke noticed immediately that they were severely outnumbered. Fear panged in her chest. There was no way they were going to survive this.

Ignoring the thought, she rushed forward with a cry. She fell into stealth, easily sneaking through some of the charging templars. She heard swords collide behind her. She didn’t risk a glance back as she leapt onto a templar that was trying to pull his sword from a mage he had just cut down. She thrust her dagger forward with enough effort that it cut cleanly through the thin line of skin that showed between the templar’s helmet and armor. Blood splashed her hands as the dagger pierced the artery in the templar’s neck. Hawke’s stomach churned at the thought, threatening to empty itself as she tried to pull the dagger from his neck and was only met with resistance.

Grunting, Hawke yanked at the dagger. It came free just in time for her to catch sight of something in the corner of her vision and whirl—effectively blocking the templar sword that was heading for her face. She let out a determined yell as she pushed forward with her daggers, dodging to the right as her hands slipped free and the sword cut to where she had just been standing. Quickly, she stabbed forward, finding another weak point in the templar’s armor right around his waistline. It wasn’t a killing blow, but it was something that would leave him too hindered to fight.

Finally, she turned to examine the chaos behind her. There didn’t seem to be anymore templars coming through the door at the moment, so she rushed forward into the fray. She spotted Fenris easily enough, his lyrium scars glowing blue in the midst of grey steel. She took a few running steps towards him only to be blocked by another templar. She scowled, dancing to the side as he thrust forward with his sword. She was about to rush him when he suddenly turned—Maker, he was _fast—_ and adjusted his swing so that his sword skirted Hawke’s side. There was enough force behind it that she let out a cry of pain when it hit her armor, causing her to stumble over her feet and fall roughly on her side. She gasped as her hip hit the ground. The force of the impact caused her to lose her grip on one of her daggers, sending it scattering across the battlefield.

There was barely a moment’s respite before the templar was on her. She desperately blocked his blows however she could with her dagger. Each time his sword made contact, she felt the force of the blow through her entire body. Without notice, the templar changed the swing of his sword and caught her dagger towards the end, twisting it so that she had to let go. She rolled out of the way as his sword came down again. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, I have to get out of here.._

She tried to crawl away, but the templar caught her foot, dragging her back to him with a cruel laugh. “What a champion you are,” he sneered, lifting his sword.

Suddenly, there was a flash of blue, the sound of steel hitting steel pierced the air. Hawke was dazed for a moment, confused as to what had happened, until she saw Fenris battling the templar who had just had her cornered. She sighed, relieved, and ran to gather her daggers.

As her hand closed on her second dagger, a cry of pain from behind her made her heart stop.

Dreading what she would see when she turned, she swallowed, forcing her body to cooperate. She turned slowly, deliberately trying to ignore the pain movement caused her bruised hip. When she saw what had caused the cry of pain, she had to fight falling to her knees.

In the time it had taken for her to gather her daggers, three templars had gathered around Fenris—the one that had cornered her and two others. Two of them were severely injured, clutching their sides and panting heavily. The other, the one that had cornered her, had had to remove his helmet. Blood matted his dark hair, leaving a trail down the side of his face to his neck. His lip was split and there was a cut below his right eye. More important was the look of triumph on his face—triumph he felt for being able to cut down Fenris.

Fenris was kneeling before him, clutching at his stomach. Hawke hadn’t seen what happened, but her heart picked up double-time when she saw the helmet-less templar sneer and lift his sword. “ _No!”_ Hawke cried, running forward. Merrill looked at her, then looked at what had caused her to cry out. Quick as could be, she shot out an ice spell—effectively freezing all three templars where they stood.

Hawke began to run to Fenris. She watched as he fell to his side, his right arm clutching his stomach still. His sword clattered to the ground next to him. Hawke let out a cry as she reached him, turning him onto his back and placing his head in her lap, “Fenris? Fenris, are you all right?”

Fenris turned his eyes to hers. He grimaced in pain at the movement, clutching even harder at the wound on his stomach. Hawke shook her head. _No no no, this can’t be happening._

Fenris coughed, causing him to grimace once more. Hawke heard the battle finish—the final templar letting out a gurgled cough as Aveline’s sword pierced him through his gut. When she wrenched her sword from the templar, they all turned their attention to Hawke and Fenris.

Fenris’s breathing was starting to become labored. He offered a weak smile to Hawke, “I’ll be alright, Hawke.”

Hawke couldn’t even find it in herself to smile back. She couldn’t see Fenris’s wound; he was covering it too well with his arms. Taking in a nervous breath, she put a hand on his cheek, brushing his snow-white hair out of his face. “Remember our promise,” Hawke begged. “You can’t die on me.”

Fenris closed his eyes at her touch, taking in another shuddering breath. He grimaced at the pain it caused, shaking his head. His face relaxed after a moment and his breathing slowly started to become more steady—if not a bit slower. It reminded Hawke once more of their morning, when he had been sleeping and at peace. Maker, had that only been this morning? How much could change in a day.

“I’m afraid..” Fenris began in a light whisper. “I’m afraid that I might have to break that promise. I’m sorry, Hawke..”

_No, no, no, no, no._ Hawke’s breath hitched. Fenris _couldn’t_ die. Not here. Desperately, she looked around, letting out a panicked scream, “I’m surrounded by mages and not a one of you can heal him?! Where’s a healer? Someone go find one!”

She turned her attention back to Fenris. His breathing was still slowing, even now. Hawke didn’t know what to do. What could she do? She didn’t have any ability to heal. How could this be happening? Of everyone that could have been injured, why did it have to be Fenris? And he had fallen defending _her._ Defending her and her inferiority. Hawke choked back tears and nervously brushed at Fenris’s hair again.

She watched hopelessly as his breathing faltered. He grimaced once more, his entire body clenching, then relaxed again into the peaceful state it had been just moments ago. She heard him exhale a long, slow breath, then waited—one second, two seconds, three seconds.

A full minute passed, and in all that time, Fenris never inhaled again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why must I do this to myself? Why do I like angst so much? I'm so sorry, guys, please bear with me. I promise next chapter will be better. And I won't wait so long to publish it. Comments/kudos are greatly appreciated!


	7. Blood Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected party comes forward to help a dying Fenris. Meanwhile, Orsino gives in to his anger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter than usual, but if I don't break this up more, it's going to be really long. I hope you guys don't mind!

The world had come to a complete standstill around Hawke. Her companions gathered around her, watching as she held a dying Fenris in her arms.

“Fenris?” Hawke whispered, touching her fingers gently to his face to draw his attention to her. When he didn’t stir, Hawke whispered his name again, a desperate plea leaking into his name, “ _Fenris?”_

“Hawke—“ Merrill started, but was silenced by a touch from Varric. She looked at him and he shook his head solemnly.

“Fenris, hold on. There’s gotta be—“ Hawke stopped, choking on her words as she looked frantically to the mages gathered around them, “—there’s gotta be a healer somewhere. Just hold on, someone will come.”

Hawke turned her attention back to Fenris, combing her fingers lightly through his hair. It had been a few seconds since the last time she had seen him take a breath. She knew he was dying, she knew there was nothing she could do. A tear fell down her cheek, then another. A void began to open in her chest, one that she knew would never heal. An image flashed across her mind— _a kiss, pressed tenderly to the inside of her palm—_ and she choked on a sob.

“Fenris?” she asked again, knowing she wouldn’t get an answer. She moved her hand from his hair and shook him lightly. When she didn’t get a response, she tried again, shaking a little harder and pleading, “Fenris, wake up!”

She knew her plea was in vain. She knew that Fenris was dead. But she couldn’t, absolutely _could not_ , believe that.

Behind her, she heard Merrill let out a surprised gasp, “Anders?”

Hawke’s head snapped up and sure enough, Anders was walking towards them with determined strides. Hawke watched him, expecting to feel the sting of his betrayal all over again. Instead, all she felt was empty. Anders knelt down next to Fenris, avoiding Hawke’s gaze as he leaned over Fenris’s body. Slowly, he moved Fenris’s arm. Hawke watched him, refusing to look at the wound that was going to be Fenris’s death.

“Please, help him,” Hawke whispered quietly.

Anders nodded, letting his hands hover over Fenris. After a moment, a blue light emitted from them and began to fan out, creeping slowly over Fenris’s torso. Hakwe looked down, watching as the magic seeped into Fenris body. The moment it touched him, the lyrium in his skin reacted, glowing as bright a blue as the magic Anders was emitting from his hands.

Moments passed and Hawke waited impatiently, a newfound hope creeping slowly through her chest as Anders worked his magic. Suddenly, Fenris took in a gasping breath, his eyes flying open as he sat up. Anders backed out of the way as Fenris whirled into a crouch, the lyrium in his skin fading back to their normal white scars as his eyes darted from side to side in distrustful glances. Finally, his eyes landed on Hawke’s. Hawke took in a breath and held it, studying him for a long while as he studied her. His breathing was heavy, labored still. Finally, Hawke broke the silence and whispered, “Fenris?”

All at once, motion came back into the world. Fenris rushed forward, gathering Hawke into his arms, crushing her against his body. Hawke heard a few cheers from behind her and felt a tear fall down her cheek.  Without a thought, Hawke squeezed Fenris closer to her.

“Ah!” Fenris grunted, pulling away from her gently and wrapping his arm around his waist where his wound had been.

“Ah, yeah, Hawke, you might want to avoid that,” Anders said, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “I may have healed him outwardly, but there’s still going to be some sensitivity. I couldn’t heal him as much as he should have been before he woke up. I highly suggest that he doesn’t partake in any of the.. other.. fighting..”

His voice began to trail off as Fenris’s attention turned to him. Fenris’s stare was cold, filled with hate. Hawke reached forward, touching Fenris’s arm lightly with her fingertips, “Fenris, please, it’s okay. He came back just to heal you.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say that—“ Anders began, then stopped abruptly when Hawke shot him a glare. He threw his arms up, turning his back to them. He walked over to Merrill, who giggled and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Fenris watched him walk away, his fists clenched. He glanced at Hawke before muttering, “How could you let him touch me?”

“Fenris,” Hawke warned. “You were _dying_. If he wouldn’t have come, you would have died. I don’t expect you to thank him but at least stop looking at him like you’re going to kill him.”

Fenris shook his head, “If not for your obsessive need to protect him, even _after_ he committed an act of terrorism in the name of ‘freedom,’ I probably would have already.”

Hawke smiled, trailing her fingertips down his arm to twine her fingers in his, “Lucky he has me then.”

“Lucky indeed,” Fenris said unhappily, though a grin was tugging at the corner his lips.

Hawke turned her gaze to Orsino, who was now circling around some of the mages that had fallen. Hawke felt a pang of guilt—she had been too wrapped up in saving Fenris that she hadn’t even thought of the others that had fallen. Slowly, Orsino began shaking his head, “Look at it all,” he said solemnly, his voice shaking slightly. He closed his hands into fists, “Why don’t they just drown us as infants? Why wait? Why give us the illusion of hope?”

Orsino turned to Hawke then, his expression fierce. Hawke and Fenris both stood, their expressions wary. Hawke dropped Fenris’s hand as she stepped forward. Before she could say anything, Orsino continued, his voice clouded in anger, “I refuse to keep running! I won’t wait for her to kill me.”

Hawke shook her head, stepping forward, “Orsino, you need to calm down. Giving up now won’t help anything.”

“I’m not giving up, I am giving in.”

The tone in his voice sent a shudder down Hawke spine. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Anders step forward, whispering a pleading, _“No.”_

Orsino shook his head at Anders, causing  him to stop walking forward, before continuing, “Quentin’s research was too evil, too dangerous, so I put it aside. But I see now there is no other way.” He produced a knife from his robes and dread filled Hawke. Orsino threw his arms out in frustration, “Meredith expects blood magic? Then I will give it to her!”

“No!” Hawke shouted, but she was too late. Before she could even take a step forward, Orsino drug the knife across his palm, causing bright red streams of blood to drip from his palm.

“Maker help us all..” Orsino muttered before a blinding light burst from his body. Suddenly, he was rising in the air. Magic danced in circles around him. He began to raise his arms and the dead mages around him began to rise; their bodies limp, unmoving. The bodies folded themselves around Orsino, forming a protective barrier around him. Suddenly, Orsino’s skin turned from a pale white to a sickly tan and the mages’ bodies began to _melt_ into Orsino, taking on the same sickly tan.

“Maker, no.. This isn’t what I wanted..” Hawke heard Anders whisper next to her.

“Well, it’s too late for that now,” Hawke said, anger rising in her voice. “Everyone, with me!”

The creature that used to be Orsino let out a deafening roar and without giving herself time to think, Hawke rushed forward to meet the creature’s battle cry with her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Again, comments and kudos are appreciated! They honestly keep me going.


	8. The Last Straw, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After defeating Orsino, Hawke finally confronts Meredith.

The fight with Orsino was over before Hawke could even process how it started.

With one final cry of anger, Hawke rushed forward, burying her dagger in the chest of the thing that used to be Orsino. She grabbed onto the tentacles that extended from its head and pulled back with all of her might. The magic connecting the head to its body crippled and the head flew from its body. Hawke landed gracefully on her feet, instantly turning to the head that now wriggled on the ground. Without thinking, she ran over and lifted her leg, slamming her foot down with a sickening crunch. She brought her foot down, over and over again, and didn't stop until she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Hawke," she heard Fenris urge softly behind her. "Hawke, he's dead."

Hawke whirled, anger still coursing through her body. Her eyes locked with Fenris's. His expression was calm, collected. Hawke studied him for a long time, trying to reign in her anger. When she was relatively calm, she turned from him and began to stalk towards the exit. She stopped for only a moment to grab one of her daggers that she had lost in the fight, then pressed forward, pushing through her companions. "Come on," she called behind herself. "We need to get to the courtyard before Meredith."

Without another word, she quickened her pace to a jog. Her companions followed silently behind her.

_Why am I so angry?_ Hawke thought to herself. She normally had a pretty decent hold on her temper, but she was having a really hard time calming herself entirely. Shaking the thought, she pressed forward, kicking her pace from a jog to an all-out run. From there, it didn't take the group long to reach the courtyard. Hawke paused at the top of the stairs leading down to the courtyard, surveying the crowd that was gathered. Meredith was already there, surrounded by templars.

"And here we are, Champion, at long last." Hawke heard Meredith call up the stairs to her.

Hawke descended the stairs, meeting Meredith's hate-filled glare with one of her own. Her hands began to tremble as a new wave of rage coursed through her body. She clenched her hands into fists to hide the trembling as she came face-to-face with Meredith. Stifling her anger, Hawke cracked a smile, "Been waiting for this, have you? I imagine you've wanted to be rid of me for some time."

"I bear you no ill will," Meredith said, sending a shock through Hawke. She could have sworn the woman hated her. Meredith continued, "You've done this to yourself. You are no mage,  but in supporting them you've elected to share their fate."

"Knight-Commander," a male voice interrupted. Hawke glanced over to see Cullen, a templar knight that she had had run-ins with prior, moving to interrupt Meredith. "I thought we only meant to arrest the Champion."

Meredith narrowed her eyes at him, her control over her temper slipping. "You will do as I command, Cullen."

"No!" he exclaimed, taking a step away from Meredith. Hawke watched him, wary, as he continued. "I defended you when Thrask started whispering you were mad - but this is too far."

When Meredith spoke next, Hawke felt a chill run through her body. Meredith's voice changed, tinged with a metallic sound that seemed to be emanating from her very core.

"I will not allow insubordination! We must stay true to our path!" Meredith proclaimed, taking her sword from its sheath and pointing it at Cullen. The sword glowed red and Hawke took an involuntary step back. She had seen this before, in the thaig she had explored with Varric. _Red lyrium,_ the very thing that had driven Bartrand insane.

Suddenly, Hawke knew that the situation had changed. Meredith was changed, probably mad with the whispers coming from the living lyrium. One of them wasn't going to make it out of here alive, and Hawke was determined that it wasn't going to be her.

"You recognize it, do you not?" Meredith cooed, snapping Hawke out of her thoughts. Hawke narrowed her eyes at Meredith as Meredith looked down at her sword and gave it a gentle, loving stroke. "Pure lyrium, taken from the Deep Roads. The dwarf charged a great deal for his prize." After a pause, Meredith narrowed her eyes, pointing the red sword at Hawke. "All of you! I want her dead!"

Hawke tensed, her hands flying to her daggers as the templars started forward. Cullen's voice rang out once more, drawing everyone's attention to him. "Enough! This is not what the Order stands for! Knight-Commander, _step down._ I relieve you of your command."

Meredith's eyes widened. She was obviously as shocked as Hawke by Cullen's words. Slowly, Meredith began shaking her head. "My own knight-captain falls prey to the influence of blood magic. You all have! You're all weak, allowing the mages to control your minds. To turn you against me!" She swung her sword around, pointing it accusingly at the templars gathered around her. They all took a wary step back, holding their hands up in surrender. Meredith turned back to Hawke and pointed her sword at her. The sword began to glow brighter as Meredith spoke, filling with power. "But I don't need any of you. I will protect this city myself!"

Hawke unsheathed her daggers but before she could rush Meredith, a body stepped in front of her. Hawke glared at Cullen, who had his back to her. She saw him raise his sword to Meredith and lower in to a defensive stance. "You'll have to go through me," he said gently, as if he regretted the words the instant they left his lips.

"Idiot boy!" Meredith growled, taking a step forward. "Just like all the others."

Suddenly, Meredith lifted her sword into the air and plunged it into the concrete below - as effortlessly as she would slide the sword into her scabbard. She knelt before her sword and a red energy burst into life around her. She began to mutter a prayer, "Blessed are those that stand before the corrupt and wicked and do not falter!" When she was finished, the energy around her collapsed inwards, filling her sword with power. She stood, slowly, and met Hawke's gaze.

Then, all hell broke loose.

Hawke drew her daggers and dodged around Cullen, rushing Meredith. She watched as Meredith lifted her sword in preparation to defend herself. Hawke disappeared into shadow and moved around Meredith. She watched Meredith try to listen for her footsteps, so she took special care to step lightly. When she saw an opening - a slight crack in the side of Meredith's armor where a sword had probably struck earlier - Hawke ran forward, aiming her dagger for the crack. At the last second, Meredith heard her coming, and turned just in time so that Hawke's dagger bounced off the side of the heavy plate. With a sneer, Meredith raised her sword, preparing to bring it down on Hawke. Hawke quickly turned, raising both of her daggers in an x-formation, and caught Meredith's sword between them. She pushed against Meredith's swing until she felt her daggers begin to slip. She let out a frustrated shout, dropping her daggers and tumbling out of the way as Meredith's sword came down.

Hawke felt a cool chill behind her and turned to see Meredith's foot encased in ice. Hawke glanced up and saw Merrill shoot her a quick grin. Hawke nodded and ran toward Meredith again. Just as Hawke reached her, Meredith broke free of the ice and danced back, raising her sword to defend herself against Hawke's strikes. Suddenly, Isabela was beside Hawke, adding another two daggers to the onslaught. They continued striking, looking for openings to get behind Meredith. Hawke brought a dagger down and Meredith angled her sword to block the attack. In that moment, Isabela ducked down, kicking her foot under Meredith's feet so that Meredith stumbled back. She caught herself on her sword and when she looked up, Hawke's heart stopped.

Meredith's eyes were glowing red. She began shouting a desperate, frantic prayer. "Maker, your servant begs you for strength to defeat this evil!"

With an almost effortless grace, Meredith launched herself into the air. She flew for a moment before she landed atop the flight of stairs Hawke had just come down. She plunged her sword into the earth again and this time, the red energy cascaded from the sword to the statues that stood on either side of the stairs. The sound of a machine coming to life filled the air and the statue began to move.

"Well, _shit..._ " Hawke muttered under her breath.

Her friends gathered around her. As the statue stepped down from its platform, Hawke glanced at it, then turned her attention to Meredith. To her friends, she said, "You guys take the statues. I'm going to focus on Meredith."

She heard everyone mutter their agreements. Hawke fell into shadow, moving past the statue as her companions rushed to it. She heard the battle rage behind her - metal grinding on metal as swords and daggers alike met the statue's metal frame. She heard a loud _crack_ and chanced a look back to see that the statue was frozen completely solid from one of Merrill's spells. Hawke smiled, triumphant, knowing her friends could handle themselves as she went to meet Meredith.

She was near the staircase when Meredith hopped from her platform, landing easily at the bottom of the stairs. Hawke didn't spare a thought as she leapt from shadow and plunged her daggers toward a soft spot in Meredith's chest plate. One dagger bounced roughly off the plate, causing a sharp pain to shoot up Hawke's arm. She let out a cry, dropping her dagger. The other dagger's tip buried itself in Meredith's plate. Hawke saw a splash of blood, but knew the cut wasn't deep. She tried to pull back the dagger, but it was wedged deep enough into the armor that it wouldn't come easily.

Meredith let out a low growl, that weird metallic ringing still working its way into Meredith's voice, and jerked back a step. Hawke had to release her dagger. She watched Meredith grab the hilt of the dagger and pull it from her armor. She tossed it carelessly behind her, well out of Hawke's reach. Hawke stifled a groan and tried to assess her situation. The dagger she had dropped was only a few feet behind her. If she could grab that, she should stand a chance.

Meredith ran forward, swinging her sword in a wide arc to the side. Hawke ducked down, tumbling out of the way just as Meredith's sword grazed where Hawke's head had just been. In her defense, Hawke had tumbled even further from both of her daggers.

Without any form of defense, Hawke began to run. She ran as fast as she could away from Meredith - which is why she didn't see the build-up of energy that would surely be her doom.

A loud bang behind Hawke caused her to turn back around, just in time to see a wave of red light burst from Meredith's body. Suddenly, Hawke couldn't move, no matter how hard she tried. Her eyes shifted to Meredith, now walking slowly toward her with a look of triumph on her face.

"It's not enough that they make innocents suffer, no! We must also add insult to injury!" Meredith shouted across the courtyard. Her voice lowered, hints of disbelief and hatred leaking into her voice. "Spare the mages? Give them freedom? And they would use it to tear down everything we hold dear! No, no it cannot be allowed! I will stop it! Do you hear me, Champion? I will defeat you!"

Meredith was closing in on Hawke now, and Hawke struggled against the fear rising in her chest. She was trapped, she couldn't move. All Meredith had to do was close the distance between them and strike. _Maker, help me.. please!_ Meredith was right in front of her now, raising her sword. Hawke stared in open terror as Meredith began to bring the sword down.

With a jolt, Hawke felt the magic that was holding her in place release. She moved quickly, dancing out of the way of Meredith's sword. Meredith let out a frustrated shout and charged Hawke again. Hawke danced around her and sprinted for the dagger she had dropped earlier. She picked it up just in time to whirl around and block Meredith's stroke. When Meredith's sword hit Hawke's dagger, pain shot up Hawke's arm again at the impact. Hawke tightened her grip on her dagger, refusing to drop it again.

Meredith let out another low growl, pushing down harder with her sword. The edge of it glanced along Hawke's cheek and Hawke had to fight the cry of pain that rose to her lips as the sword cut easily through the flesh of her cheek. In a desperate attempt to get away, Hawke shoved forward and kicked up with her leg. Meredith fell off-balance and stumbled backward. Seeing her opportunity, Hawke rushed forward and plunged her dagger through the hole she had made earlier in Meredith's breast plate.

This time, the dagger buried itself all the way through.

Meredith stumbled back and her body began to glow with the red energy from her sword. Meredith let out a cry, staring daggers at Hawke through glowing red eyes.. "I will not be defeated!"

Her voice was inhuman, almost demonic.  Energy crackled around her, causing Hawke to take a step back. Meredith raised her sword in front of her and pleaded in that same inhuman voice, "Maker, aid your humble servant!"

The energy around Meredith collapsed on her. She let out an anguished scream and that's when Hawke smelled it - the scent of human flesh, burning. The lyrium had turned on Meredith and was now burning her from the inside out. Meredith fell to her knees, silent, no longer able to scream. In mere moments, she was nothing but a burnt, petrified corpse.

It didn't take long for the templars to start filing back into the courtyard. Where they had gone during the fight, Hawke didn't know. Now, she turned her gaze to each one of them. She watched as they looked from her to the Knight-Commander and back, then back away in fear. Hawke studied each one of them and - with one last, sad look at Meredith - turned her back on the soldiers and exited the courtyard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there wasn't much of Fenris in this chapter, but considering he's injured and had to stay out of the battle, there wasn't really anywhere that I could write him in. I'm sorry it took so long to get this update out! I already have the epilogue typed up and will be publishing it some time tomorrow. Then on to part 2!
> 
> Comments and kudos much appreciated <3


	9. An epilogue, of sorts.

Images danced through Hawke’s mind like terrible visions _– Fenris, struck down in the middle of battle, wounded to the point of near-death; Fenris, jumping to Hawke’s defense and taking a dagger to the back; Fenris, wounded; Fenris, dying._ The images had plagued her in the months following the Chantry explosion. Seeing Fenris nearly die in her arms had opened a void in her heart that refused to lie dormant. Every night, she had nightmares of Fenris’s death. Every night, she woke to him sleeping silently beside her. It didn’t matter. Nothing did. Fenris had almost died and it had been Hawke’s fault.

As silently as she could, Hawke rose from the bed. The room was cold – the fire in the hearth had died some time ago – and Hawke’s skin prickled. She retrieved her robe from the floor, slipping it over her naked skin and wrapping it tightly around her, then moved to the window. The night was dark, interrupted only by flashes of lightning from the storm that raged outside. Rain cascaded in thick blankets to the earth, coating Hawke’s window in a stream steady enough to block her vision of the outside world. Hawke stood there – how long, she couldn’t tell you – trying to block the images that forced themselves abruptly into her consciousness. She thought of anything else – the appointments she had with officials around the city, the party her friends had planned for her in the coming weeks (it would be her birthday, after all), the letter Varric had sent her concerning some business he had near Orlais…

Suddenly, Hawke knew what she needed to do.

* * *

 

Fenris had been awake for some time.

Hawke had woken with a start, as she had the past months when the nightmares began. At first, Fenris had always woken with her, trying to comfort Hawke in the only ways he knew how – holding her, kissing her, loving her. She hadn’t responded, had even grown worse at times. Eventually, he had stopped getting up with her. He would stay awake; listen to her calm herself until she was asleep again. He never went back to sleep until he was sure she was safe in her dreams.

Tonight, though, was different. She had woken up and immediately gotten out of bed. Fenris remained still, quiet; trying to hold the illusion that he was still asleep. Hawke was silent, mostly. A creak in the wooden floor of her room told him she was across the room, by the window. He chanced a glance at her just as a flash of lightning illuminated the room. She was just standing there, watching the rain fall on the window. He studied her, trying to discern what made tonight different.

Suddenly, he saw Hawke square her shoulders in a gesture that he recognized. She had just come to a decision on something. What, though, even he couldn’t fathom.

When Hawke turned, Fenris hurriedly closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. He still didn’t want Hawke to know that he was awake. He listened as she moved around the room, gathering clothes out of her wardrobe, shoes out of her closet.

She was packing.

Fenris felt a stab of panic. Where was she going? What was she packing for? Suddenly, he couldn’t keep his eyes closed anymore and opened them just in time to see her silhouette in the doorframe. She was going to leave, in the middle of the night, without a word. What was going on?

“You’re leaving,” he stated, moving to stand from the bed.

Hawke stopped, raising her head in surprise. After a second, her features relaxed slightly. She was still tense, unsure, afraid. She kept her back to him and softly, almost so soft Fenris didn’t hear it, she whispered, “Yes.”

The word sent a shock through Fenris that threatened to knock him back into bed. He swallowed his fear before continuing, in a much more steady voice than he had thought possible, “Will you come back?”

Hawke was silent. She turned to him, finally, tears glistening in her eyes. Without moving from the door, she nodded and whispered again, “I don’t know.”

Her voice was thick with unshed tears. Fenris wanted nothing more than to gather her in his arms and comfort her, ask her to come back to bed so he could help ease her nightmares. Instead, he remained where he stood, shifting from one foot to the other. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what he could possibly do to keep her here. Hawke was her own woman, if she wanted to leave that was her right.

But, Maker, did it hurt.

Fenris studied her. Her eyes were dark, puffy from a mixture of nearly crying and lack of sleep. She was thin, thinner than she had any right to be. He had watched her spiral into this darkness with no way to stop it. He did what he could but – sometimes, he realized – people had a darkness that only they could understand. If Hawke was leaving and needed to leave to get better, then who was he to stop it?

With an effort, he nodded, giving no indication of the turmoil going on inside his mind. Again, he spoke with a voice more steady than he thought possible. “Alright.”

Hawke closed her eyes, her features visibly relaxing before him. She had been scared of his reaction, he realized. She had been scared he would make it hard for her to leave, to do the right thing. When Hawke turned to leave, Fenris couldn’t help the next words that spilled from his mouth. “Just be safe, Hawke.”

His tone was pleading, wavering. It cracked at the end, and he cleared his throat to cover the noise. Hawke stopped again and turned back. Slowly, she smiled at him, and he watched as a tear fell freely down one of her cheeks. With so much emotion it threatened to choke Fenris, Hawke said, “You too, my love.”

With that, Hawke exited the room and closed the door silently behind her.

* * *

 

Once the door closed, Hawke couldn’t hold back her tears. They began cascading down her face and, hurriedly, she swiped a sleeve across her cheek. Without giving herself enough time to second-guess her decision, she descended the stairs from her room and exited the mansion.

The instant she was outside, the cold rain shocked her into alertness. She squared her shoulders, determined. She couldn’t stay in Kirkwall anymore, she knew that. Perhaps one day, she would come back. She’d return to Fenris and they would move from Kirkwall; maybe to a cabin somewhere in the woods, far away from city limits. She knew that she would enjoy the peace and quiet.

As she started to move forward, she felt a stirring in her lower abdomen. Gently, she placed a hand on her hardening stomach and glanced downward. When she knew she was well away from the mansion and knew that no one was following her, she finally dared to speak.

“I know, little one. We’ll return to your father as soon as we can. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry to leave it like this, but I must. Part two will be coming sometime in the (probably distant) future. I've been working on some things in my personal life, including starting my own novel. Between that, work, and my other fic, it's been really hard to keep writing (as you all know with the slow as hell updates). I promise I'll get back to this as soon as I can. For now, I hope you all enjoyed it. Leave comments and kudos, tell me what you think!


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